Partisanship
by GoesKaboom
Summary: Poor Alfred. Lately it seems like his citizens can't agree on anything, much less anything important. So he goes on a little quest to figure out why his people just can't get over their obsession with partisanship. Political satire.
1. America's Troubles

Partisanship

_**IMPORTANT WARNING: If you have strongly held, deeply cherished political beliefs and can't stand people poking at them, then for your own sake, go find something else to read. Seriously, I'm not pulling any punches here, regardless of ideology. I'm not a Democrat or a Republican, and anything is fair game. This** _is **_a political satire after all. Let's leave the blind rage to the pundits, yeah? _**

_**Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia, or any of the politicians that appear throughout this work. This work contains ideologically sensitive material and some strong language. Proceed with caution. **_

Chapter One: America's Troubles

For the past seventy-five years, every other Friday was Nations' Night Out. Anyone who wanted to come would show up at the usual restaurant (a certain pub in Glasgow, UK, that most everyone was particularly fond of), where everyone would talk about whatever was going on in their respective countries. Or, at least, that was theoretically what was supposed to happen. Usually it just dissolved into petty arguments, fights over the past, Russia drinking too much vodka, and America eating hamburgers. Lots and lots of hamburgers.

But that night, Alfred was different. Alfred was usually one of the first nations there, but he had shown up almost an hour late. He had been silent the entire time and had barely touched his burger. "Is something wrong?" Kiku asked, shooting a worried glance at his friend.

"It is the economic crisis, da?" Ivan suggested. Alfred just shook his head.

"Are you sick?" Hungary asked. "You've barely eaten anything!"

"No, that's not it..."

"Well, tell us what's wrong then, you bloody git!" Arthur shouted. "Why are you so quiet today? It's not like you!"

"Do you all know how my boss managed to pass the health-care bill that he had been trying so hard to make into law?" America asked. Everyone nodded. Who hadn't heard about it? No matter where you went in the world, all of the news outlets had been broadcasting stories about President Obama's historic attempt to give all Americans health insurance.

"Yeah," Matthew replied. "I think we all have."

"And I'd like to just say congratulations!" Arthur jumped in, cheerily expressing his thoughts. "It's nice to see that you're taking after me in some small way! Here in Britain we have the NHS, and now your people are going to have universal health care!"

"I'm afraid that I might have another civil war!" Alfred suddenly exclaimed. Well. No one had been expecting that! America might have gone through some difficult times, but civil war? Wasn't that supposed to have been left back in the 1800s along with slavery, the Confederate States of America, and hoop-skirts? But before anyone could ask any more questions, he continued. "I've had a near-constant headache lately. I think everyone in my country has forgotten how to be civil to one another. Every single day, both sides are screaming at each other, and they keep trying to get me to take a side."

"But we're not supposed to take sides in politics," Matthew said, confused. "That's to be left up to our citizens, isn't it?"

"I know!" Alfred complained. "But no one cares! They all keep trying to get me to publicly endorse their side of the debate! I've had to disconnect my phone since it wouldn't stop ringing, and I haven't checked my email in days, since there's never anything I actually want to read in it! It's all messages from my boss on what the next step is, or from angry citizens demanding that I do something to stop my boss's agenda!"

"What exactly are they trying to get you to decide on?" Ivan asked, curious.

"Everything!" America exclaimed in frustration. "Do I love or hate the health-care bill? Do I support or oppose gay marriage? What do I think about the outcome of the last presidential election? Am I pro-life or pro-choice? Do I think we should raise or lower taxes? Do I think my boss is even qualified to be my boss or not? What do I think should be done regarding illegal immigrants? Do I support or oppose the death penalty? Do I think that we should allow citizens to educate their children at home or not? Do I wear boxers or briefs?" Francis waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Did they really ask you that?" he asked. Alfred rolled his eyes.

"Yeah. Glenn Beck had me on the show the other day and asked me that on air." Several countries stifled laughter at this.

"Did you tell him?" Hungary asked.

"Of course not! I don't need the American public to know about my choice of underpants! Besides, a hero doesn't discuss their unmentionables on national television!" Ivan burst out laughing.

"All of this would be solved if you would become one with Russia, da?"

"None of this would have happened if you had just stayed my colony," England reprimanded, a slight tone of admonition creeping into his voice. America just heaved a heavy sigh.

"This whole thing is giving me a migraine. But I guess if I want to explain it well I had better start from the beginning..."

To Be Continued

Author's Comments:

Allow me to reiterate the warning up top: I am very sarcastic. This is an American political satire. If you like the Daily Show and Colbert Report, you might like this as well. If you get your news exclusively from World Net Daily, you probably will hate this. Just don't take it too seriously, and realize that no matter what your political beliefs are, this isn't an attack on you. It's more of a way to poke fun at how extremely divided American politics have become recently.

I will be covering a variety of topics in here, from the 2008 election, to health-care reform, to just about any divisive political issue that's around here today. It's my hope that no matter what political party you favor, or what country you're from, you'll still be able to get a laugh out of this.

-Kaboom


	2. Ballots, not Bullets: Republican Side

_**To reiterate the warning posted last chapter: If you can't handle political humor that may be considered offensive, please find something else to read. I am making every effort to be even-handed here, but I cannot post all the chapters at once, so by necessity it will appear as if I am attacking one side over the other. This is not the case- all sides of the issue will be addressed. Just not in this chapter. **_

Chapter Two: Ballots, not Bullets- Republican Side

Whenever the time for an election came, the American people became even more divided than usual, which usually resulted in poor Alfred getting horrible, splitting headaches. The most recent election, which was held in 2008, was worse than usual. Alfred's previous boss was viewed by many of the citizens as the worst president in the history of the country. Others thought the man was the Second Coming. As far as Alfred was concerned, his previous poss might not have been among the best he'd ever had, but he also didn't consider him evil incarnate.

"He had good intentions, at least in the beginning," America explained to everyone. "But whether or not he managed to implement them is up for debate." Francis sniffed.

"He invaded an entire country because there were 'weapons of mass destruction' that didn't actually exist! And he tried to rename those potato things you like so much 'Freedom Fries' instead of 'French fries!'" Yes, Francis had been slightly miffed about the potato snack incident...

But Alfred ignored him and continued. "Anyway, the last election campaign was a complete disaster..."

* * *

Alfred was starting to wonder if this whole election thing was worth it. Why hadn't he suggested that George Washington become the king rather than the president? At least you didn't have to have a raucous, country-dividing election every four years for a king. Hell, kings don't _get_ elected! Well, maybe a king wouldn't have been a good idea after all... some of his previous bosses would have made terrible kings.

But this two-party thing was getting out of control. On the Republican side, the candidate was John McCain, a respected senator from Arizona who had fought in the Vietnam War. He was a decent enough sort: the problem was the woman who he had chosen to run as his vice president. Sarah Palin was the governor of Alaska.

The first time she ever met the man who was the embodiment of her country, the woman had immediately embarrassed herself by exclaiming that that the hamburger-eating man seated in the Straight Talk Express campaign bus couldn't possibly be America, he didn't look enough like a "Real American." Her reasoning? Alfred, in a desire to be respectful and put a good image forward to the people who might be his bosses sometime in the near future, was dressed in an expensive suit, used very formal diction when he spoke, and was swilling a latte that had probably cost $10 in between bites of hamburger. "He doesn't look like he's ever been out of the big cities in this country!" Sarah Palin had exclaimed. "How can he be America?" Both George W. Bush and John McCain had been horrified, and both apologized profusely. Alfred took it all in stride, and listened politely while McCain and Palin explained their plans for the country. Ms. Palin didn't seem to really understand the concept of a formal policy conversation, contradicting Mr. McCain's statements several times, and interrupting with her own little witticisms every so often.

"Do you have any questions for either of them, Alfred?" President Bush asked warmly, hoping that Alfred would have taken to them.

"Would you be willing to work with the Democrats?" Alfred asked. "I understand that the two parties have fundamental differences, but I need to think about what is best for the people. If anyone wants to pass legislation that will benefit everyone, both parties need to work together. After all, No Child Left Behind, the school reform program, is going to need reformation now. If neither party is willing to reach across the aisle, then we won't be able to fix the fundamental issues in this country."

"Absolutely," replied McCain. "What's best for the American people is what's best fort me." A typical talking point, but Alfred had been expecting a response like that. Every politician from George Washington on had always said something similar. His next question was for Palin.

"Do you have any foreign policy experience? It's very important that the person who would be my boss in the event of an emergency understand how to be diplomatic." Sarah Palin immediately perked up. She had been looking a little glazed throughout McCain's presentation- something that had not gone unnoticed by anyone present.

"Oh, yes! Being the governor of Alaska, I have _loads_ of foreign policy experience!" she chirruped. "I've gone hunting in Canada several times!" Briefly, Alfred wondered if she had been the "crazy woman with an AK-47 in a helicopter" that had tried to shoot his brother's pet polar bear, but he quickly pushed those thoughts aside, turning his attention back to the woman. Better not to speculate on things like that, especially when there was a good chance she might be one of his bosses. It would look bad if he accused her of anything that she hadn't actually done... "And Alaska is very close to Russia!" Palin continued. "In fact, you can see Russia from parts of Alaska!" Hmmm. That was interesting. He was going to have to ask Ivan if that was true or not, depending on whether or not he really felt like talking to the Russian man when he remembered...

America went on to ask McCain some more questions, such as his thoughts on how he intended to fix the economic crisis, what his plans regarding the hunt for Osama bin Laden were, and what he would do about illegal immigration. Once he had gotten satisfactory answers from the candidate, he turned back to Palin. "What newspapers or news magazines do you read?" he asked curiously. Other than the Anchorage Daily News, Alfred really didn't have much exposure to Alaskan newspapers. To his surprise, the woman seemed to become cautious and fidgety, glancing around as if she might find an answer over there, behind McCain's head, or something.

"Well, I do like newspapers," she said quickly. "I read them. I like all of them. Yeah. I read them." Alfred blinked.

"Uh, can you be slightly more specific?" he asked. "I would like to know what kinds of newspapers there are in Alaska. I haven't been able to spend as much time there as I would like, so I don't know a whole lot about how you get your news up there."

"Well..." Palin seemed like she was stalling for time now. Both McCain and Bush exchanged worried glances. Alfred did not seem very impressed with Palin, and if she ever did become president, that could be a disaster. Luckily, Alfred had gotten along pretty well with all 43 presidents so far (despite some small to medium differences on how to treat different segments of the population, or whether or not to keep expanding West, or to build certain things in certain places, but they all knew what could happen if a country refused to cooperate with his or her leader. How do you think the French Revolution got started? Francis didn't really like to talk about his relationship with the monarchs at the time that much...

"She likes _The Economist_," McCain finally cut in. "She also reads the _Wall Street Journal_ and the _Washington Post_." Alfred nodded, satisfied with that answer, then checked his watch.

"Gentlemen, Ms. Palin, thank you for your time." he said, standing up and putting his hamburger wrappers in the trash bin. "I'm sorry to cut this meeting short, but England has invited all the members of NATO for tea this afternoon, and I'm afraid that if I don't get going now, I'm going to be late. It's very unheroic to show up for something like that late, and besides, England promised that he'd get hamburgers!" Bush, McCain, and Palin all shook his hand before he hopped off the campaign bus and went on his way.

"I think that went rather well, don't you?" Sarah Palin said cheerily once he was out of earshot. "Although it seems like for the embodiment of the country, he ought to spend more time in Real America!"

To Be Continued

Author's Comments:

Um, my apologies if you're a big Palin fan, but I couldn't resist putting her in here. After all, she was a rather major feature in the 2008 election, and it didn't seem right not to put her in here. And the things I remember the best, that probably everyone else does too, is the fact that she couldn't name a newspaper and made the whole "I can see Russia from my state!" comment that got plastered all over the blogosphere. Oh, and the hunting from helicopters, which actually sounds kind of like a video game.

Anyway, Bush is in here because he was the former major leader of the Republican party. Don't like Bush? Nancy Pelosi will be appearing in the next chapter, since before Obama became President she was one of the most important Democratic leaders.

Anyway, I hope I didn't offend anyone too badly with this, and even if I did, just wait until the next chapter, since _nothing_ is safe or sacred in this fic. If it's political, I'll probably poke it.

As of now, I still haven't determined an update schedule. Updates will probably be in the later half of the week, however, such as Thursday or Friday.

-Kaboom


	3. Ballots, not Bullets: Democrat Side

**Yep, it's that time again... time to cover my ass and issue this warning. Hopefully if you've read to this chapter, you know what the drill is, but just in case you somehow managed to get here without realizing what this fic is about, it's a political satire. If you get offended easily at people making fun/having a laugh/possibly criticizing your political alignment, you probably don't want to read this. **

Chapter Three: Ballots, Not Bullets- Democrat side

About a week after he met with McCain and Palin, Nancy Pelosi showed up at Alfred's house. Pelosi had a key (as did other major political figures in America), so she let herself in. What she had not counted on was for America to be in the shower. The Speaker of the House was treated to a rather loud (and off-key) rendition of the Star-Spangled Banner with the shower's spray as accompaniment.

Not too long afterward, Alfred stepped into his living room, clad in nothing but a towel, looking for the old McDonald's cup that he kept his hair combs in. He certainly did not expect to see the third most important person in the government hierarchy to be seated on his sofa. "M-ms Speaker! Wh-what are you doing here?" Alfred stammered, blushing and clutching at the towel covering his shame. Nancy Pelosi politely looked away before answering his question. Damn. That was awkward. It wasn't every day you walked in on your country au natural.

"You were going to meet the Democratic presidential candidate today, remember?" she said.

"Crap! That was today? I thought it was tomorrow! I'll go get changed!" Alfred scrambled back into his room, and Pelosi could hear him rummaging around for articles of clothing, and swearing under his breath when he couldn't find a freaking tie.

Eventually, Alfred and Pelosi met up with Barack Obama and Joe Biden at an upscale hamburger restaurant. Obama was a senator from Illinois, but certainly had led an interesting life. He told Alfred stories about growing up in Hawaii, Kansas, and Indonesia. He struck Alfred as a likeable sort, a friendly guy, albeit a very driven, goal-oriented one. Joe Biden, a senator from Delaware, was equally amiable, but did make several errors while they were discussing things, and had a tendency to talk on and on. But Alfred didn't mind- politicians generally did like to hear the sounds of their voices, which did come in handy in their line of work.

The real trouble began when the server arrived to take their orders. "What'll you all have?" she asked.

"I'll have the Can Haz Cheeseburger!" Alfred exclaimed, easily spying the most archetypal hamburger on the menu. Biden ordered the Big Bacon Burger, Pelosi got a salad, and Obama chose the Classic ½ lb Hamburger Special, but with a twist.

"Could you put mustard rather than ketchup on it?" he asked. The waitress nodded, but that simple request set off a firestorm among the reporters that had crowded into the shop to see the personification of the country meet with the Democratic presidential candidate.

"He wants _mustard_ on a _burger?"_

"Who does he think he is? Is the American tradition of having ketchup on your hamburger not good enough for him?"

"How un-American!"

"Hmph. And people are actually thinking of electing this guy to the highest office in the land?"

Alfred was confused. "What's wrong with putting mustard on a burger?" he asked. "I've never tried it before, but I'm sure it tastes fine! Not liking a particular condiment doesn't make you un-American!" he exclaimed. "I don't like vinegar. Does that make me a bad person?" All of the reporters immediately shut up. It's one thing to call someone who's policies you disagree with un-American. It's quite another to do the same to the guy who _is_ America.

Eventually, though, since watching politicians have a meal isn't the most enthralling thing in the world, the reporters and television anchors got bored and wandered off (probably to try and get more embarrassing photos of Paris Hilton or something). Alfred took advantage of the relative peace to ask some questions. "Mr. Obama, what would you consider to be your top priority if you were elected?"

"It's time for change to come to this country!" Obama replied vehemently. "And one of the things that needs to be changed the most is the way this nation views health care! We allow people to die in this country, all because they can't afford health insurance, and it's time that we stopped letting the poorest members of society suffer because of the insurance companies' greed!"

Alfred was silent for a few moments. The man did have a point, but how did he intend to do it? If he tried to raise taxes, there was going to be mass revolt. Well, maybe "revolt" wasn't the right term for it. It wasn't like his citizens would start another Civil War, would they? Would they? Honestly, he couldn't say whether or not they would. His people could be rather unpredictable.

"While I agree that you have good intentions," he said, wording his response carefully, "how do you intend to fund this reform?" Nancy Pelosi shrugged.

"We'll just have to raise taxes, I guess," she replied. "But people should understand that it's for the greater good." Obama nodded in agreement.

"I'm running on a platform of change," he said, "and healthcare is one of the things that needs the change the most!" Well, he definitely had an idea of where he wanted to take the country, Alfred would give him that. But getting the people to agree to it would take nothing short of a miracle.

"Do you have a plan for the military?" Alfred asked, trying to get more of a feel for the man's military policies. He hadn't ever served in any of the branches, so it would be interesting to see what his thoughts were. Obama nodded.

"It's time that Don't Ask, Don't Tell was repealed. Men and women who could be of use to the armed forces are being turned away because of who they are. People who can perform vital functions, such as translate Arabic, are being discharged if they are outed. This policy has outlived its usefulness."

"What about Iraq?" Alfred asked.

"I do not think that a large U.S. presence is needed in Iraq any more," Obama explained. "If we focus on finding Osama bin Laden, then we will be able to end this war quicker." Again, Alfred nodded. He did seem to know what he was talking about, but then... "That's why I think I woulds be the best president for these 57 states!" Alfred blinked, Biden looked embarrassed, and Pelosi coughed conspicuously.

"57 states?" Alfred queried, wondering if he had misheard. Immediately, the candidate realized his mistake.

"I... I meant 50!" he exclaimed, clearly mortified. "I'm sorry. I'm very tired. I've been flying around the country so much I'm completely disoriented."

"Don't worry about it," Alfred said cheerily. "We all make mistakes sometimes. But you might want to know, it doesn't look good if you can't remember how many states are in the country you want to govern." Obama seemed very relieved that America took his gaffe relatively well.

They all finished their lunches and discussed policy a bit more. Joe Biden entertained everyone with some campaign trail stories. But, eventually, the Democratic candidates needed to get on a plane headed for Pennsylvania, and Pelosi did kind of need to get back to the House of Representatives, so the little party was broken up.

In all respects, Alfred should have felt reassured. He'd met both candidates and their vice presidential picks, and they seemed like reasonably competent people (well, with the possible exception of the Republican vice presidential candidate). But that fact worried him. Because they both seemed competent, he could tell that it was going to be an extremely close race. And normally that wouldn't be a problem either. But with tensions so high over the economy, he couldn't help but fear that things could get out of hand very quickly.

To Be Continued

Author's Comments:

OK, a couple of things about this chapter. The whole "OBAMA PUTS MUSTARD ON HIS BURGER!" thing was so ridiculous I had to put it in here. I know people picked up on it because they wanted something to criticize, but really? Seriously, people, it's a condiment. You don't need to throw a fit because the president puts mustard on a hamburger. I don't know how much coverage the rest of the country got on this incident, but it sticks out to me as one of the most memorable Obama campaign moments, mainly because the morning radio show in my city took callers about the whole incident, and there was one really crazy lady who called in screaming about how mustard was un-American.

Same with the 57 states comment. I had to put it in here. I personally thought it was kind of funny, but again, the morning radio show attracts crazies, including a guy who actually thought we'd gotten seven more states.

And while this does not directly relate to this story, in a few days starts something we call Hell Month around here. During May, it's time for exams. Not only do I have to take exams, I have to work overtime to make sure that the exam materials (read:computers) are functional and ready to go. I work for the school district, so that means that not only do I have to take the exams, but I have to set the computers up! And of course, nothing ever functions correctly, so instead of studying I spend hours trying to figure out which router got unplugged, or why computer 90 Bazillion is giving beep codes at start-up, or where the hell all the mice went. Yeah, it's _loads_ of fun, and really cuts into my free time. I probably will not be able to update every Thursday like I've been for the next month, but I'll certainly do my best.

Thanks for reading!

-Kaboom


	4. Ballots, not Bullets: Election Day

**Warning: Uh, no real warnings this time, but if you're an obsessive Sarah Palin supporter, skip this chapter. **

Chapter Four: Ballots, not Bullets- Election Day

_November 4, 2008- _Alfred awoke that morning to a rainy, dreary D.C. Day. An ominous start to an election day, he though.

Elections were always awkward, nerve-wracking times for countries. Their daily lives would be completely controlled by whoever the people chose. It didn't help that this year, tensions were higher than usual. Alfred always knew politicians could use some pretty dirty tactics against one another (Thomas Jefferson's opposition had tried to paint him as an agent of Satan himself), but this was just too much.

For example, one concern brought up against opponents of John McCain was his age. He was in his seventies, and some people worried that his health wasn't good enough for him to be the leader of the country. He did a fairly good job of convincing people otherwise... until he forgot how many houses he had. The Democrats made a big deal out of this, saying that someone senile enough to forget how many houses he owned obviously was not up to the task of running the free world.

Then came the mess with Barack Obama's preacher, who some said spouted racist rhetoric. He quickly made a move to distance himself from the divisive cleric, but for some, that wasn't enough. "The damage was already done!" they cried. "You can't take back what you've already filled your mind with!"

Although, if Alfred had to point to one factor that was the proverbial wrench in the plans, it was Sarah Palin. The woman was every single caricature of an "ignorant American" rolled into one. And she was hurting America's image abroad.

Alfred first found this out when he was sitting back and relaxing after a grueling day sitting in on Congress. Good god Nancy Pelosi could talk for _hours_. He had a Big Mac, and Patriot Games was on the television. He was ready for some serious down-time when suddenly, his cell phone rang. "Hello?"

"Ahahahaha... is this America? Hee hee hee..." a voice laughed.

"Yeah... who is this?" Alfred replied uncertainly. It had to be either a country or their boss... his mobile number wasn't common knowledge.

"Your brother gave us this number. I hope we're not troubling you, but we're radio DJs from Quebec. We just thought it might be important to tell you that the woman you have running for your vice president is a freaking idiot. We just called her pretending to be Nicolas Sarkozy and she absolutely believed us! And when we said we saw the documentary on her life- it's really a porno- she acted like there was actually a movie about her! She's a complete moron! We hope for your sake that she doesn't get elected. Hell, we hope for _our_ sake that she doesn't get elected. She'd probably accidentally launch the nukes!"

"Matthew gave you my number?" Alfred asked, somewhat shocked. "I thought I told him not do that!"

"Don't get angry with him," the DJ replied. "He only gave it to us because he wanted payback for that 5000 pizza prank you played on him last year." Alfred couldn't argue with that... in a fit of drunken stupidity back in 2007, he, Kiku, and Arthur thought it would be a laugh to order five thousand pizzas to be delivered to the residence of Canada's prime minister. It had seemed like a good idea at the time...

"Alright, I can't argue with that," Alfred admitted. The DJs thanked him for his time, and hung up, leaving Alfred to think about things. Had Sarah Palin seriously thought that two Canadian radio DJs were Nicholas Sarkozy? The idea was rather scary...

But he didn't have too long to think before his cell rang again. He answered it with some trepidation this time.

"Hello, Alfred F. Jones speaking."

"Hello America? This is Nigeria, and I have Kenya and South Africa here with me," he heard a woman say. He also heard some chattering in the background. Alfred blinked. The African countries rarely ever called him. Something must be up. He really hoped it wasn't pirates again...

"Abagebe? Is everything OK?" he asked, addressing Nigeria by her human name.

"You do realize who you have running for vice president, right?" he heard South Africa ask loudly from the other end of the line.

"Uh... yeah..." Alfred replied, not really sure where they were going with this.

"Well, we were trying to watch some football this afternoon when Abagebe accidentally sat on the remote," Kenya explained. "It changed the channel to some of your presidential campaign speeches. The lady running for vice president seems to think that Africa is a country!" Poor Alfred wanted to sink into the sofa and fade away. He wasn't that dumb! But now everyone else in the world would think that Alfred F. Jones couldn't tell the difference between a country and a continent. Every time a politician screwed up it reflected badly on him. After the whole Bill Clinton and Monica Lewinsky scandal, the rest of the world thought he was a philandering douchebag. Every time George W. Bush came up with a new Bush-ism the rest of the world thought that he didn't speak English. If a politician did something stupid, _he_ had done something stupid by association.

"I'm sorry," he said simply. "Hopefully it won't happen again..."

But it did happen again. And again. And again. It seemed that the woman didn't have any sense of decorum at all, and further damaged her credibility when she said that Barack Obama "palled around with terrorists." Some of the country thought she was a national disgrace. Others loved her and saw her as the future of the Republican party, so much that she overshadowed John McCain at times.

But the battle for the presidency still continued, turning downright ugly at times. Alfred was more than glad to see November 4th roll around. He called both candidates to wish them luck, before settling into his sofa with a pile of DVDs. He never went out on election day... it generated too much controversy.

He only got about halfway through the St. Trinian's DVD England had loaned him before he decided he couldn't take not knowing what was going on, and decided to check the news. Big mistake. Alfred almost gave himself a heart attack reading about how close the race was and how people in some areas were antagonizing each other over the campaign signs in their yards, and all of the threats that certain people were getting.

No matter how hard he tried, Alfred couldn't relax. He spent the rest of the day checking all of the major news websites... CNN, Fox, MSNBC, C-SPAN, Politico... he even checked the BBC's international news page to see how the British were reporting on it. He read anything relating to the election that he could find.

Eventually, the polls closed all over the country. The votes were in: Barack Obama had won the election. The television news channel cut to the cheering crowd in Chicago while the new president-elect gave his acceptance speech. He had to smile a bit when he heard that Obama was going to get a puppy for his daughters to share the White House with.

Once the speech was over, Alfred flipped the channel and came across coverage of McCain's concession. He was very gracious about it, not coming across as someone who was in a rage after their loss. The crowd here was more subdued than the one in Chicago- after all, their candidate had just lost.

The thing that worried Alfred was the angry, defiant, close-to-tears look that some of the Republican supporters, and Sarah Palin, had. They were _not_ pleased that their candidate had not been elected to the White House, and Alfred couldn't help but think of a slightly modified, famous Arnold Schwarzenegger quote: "They'll be back."

To Be Continued

Author's Comments:

If you want to hear the Sarah Palin/"Nicholas Sarkozy" interview, visit this link: http:// www .youtube .com /watch? v= QbEwKcs-7Hc Be sure to remove the spaces.

Actually, I have a question for you all: are there any particular issues you would like to see me focus on? I have some ideas, but really don't want to bore anyone, so if there's anything you'd like to see discussed, drop me a line and I'll incorporate it into a chapter at some point. I have up to eleven chapters drafted right now, but I will guarantee that if there's something you want to see I'll incorporate it.

-Kaboom


	5. Aftermath

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**Standard warnings apply this chapter- there's nothing particularly controversial this time. **

Chapter Five: Aftermath

At this point, America stopped telling his story and took a giant bite out of his hamburger. The other nations took advantage of his temporary silence to discuss things amongst each other. "That's right! That was a really historic election, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, the first African-American president! That was a big step for you, America!"

"But the election must have been really worrying, da? I remember the whole 'I can see Russia from my house!' thing. What a stupid woman."

"Ha! I can't believe she thought a couple of Canadian guys were my boss!"

"Well, I think President Obama will help to restore some balance and peace to the global landscape."

"I dunno, I was talking to Israel the other day and he's not impressed... he thinks the president doesn't have his best interests at heart."

"Shouldn't the president of the United States have the best interests of the United States at heart, not some other country?" Alfred watched as the the other nations gathered started a discussion on how much a country should consider its allies when making domestic policy.

He was surprised to see that they had listened to him complain so far. It felt good to be able to get his election stress off his chest. Even though it had been so long ago, the election was still weighing heavily on his mind. But even more than the election, it was the aftermath. If one thought that the election had divided the people of the United States, the results had only further managed to deepen the chasm between liberals and conservatives.

"-results?" Arthur's voice jolted Alfred out of his thoughts.

"Huh?" Alfred brilliantly replied. England rolled his eyes.

"I asked, what did your people think of the results? Some of them had to have been thrilled at the outcome, right?"

"Well, yeah," Alfred explained. "The day after the election, most of Chicago was one big party. People would randomly meet in the street and congratulate each other on their candidate winning. In DC, street vendors started selling Obama merchandise. But the other side started planning revolt."

"No way!" Sealand exclaimed, causing everyone to blink in surprise.

"Peter? Where did you come from?" Ludwig asked.

"Shouldn't you be at home?" Vietnam added, concern evident on her face. "Do your caretakers know where you are?" The young nation looked defiantly back.

"It doesn't matter! But really, America, your people tried to revolt?"

"I thought you had squashed any idea of revolution during the Civil War, da?" Ivan asked. "Do you mean to say that the people did not learn their lesson the first time?"

"No, no, I don't _think_ they're going to try anything like that again," Alfred replied, putting emphasis on the word "think." "Although some people in Texas did talk about secession..."

"But aren't there people in every state who want to secede?" Arthur asked. "I mean, we have the Scottish National Party- they think Scotland shouldn't be part of the UK and should be its own country." Alfred had to agree, thankful to Arthur for the distraction. Well, not exactly distraction- more like a reassurance.

"Yeah, that's true. _Someone _is always yelling about why their state should leave the Union."

"You should put a stop to that," Ivan advised. "As you would say in America, give them an inch and they'll take a mile, da? It's best for you to not give them any hope. Shatter their dreams of rebellion before they get a chance to ferment." All of the other countries looked slightly askance at the large Russian man.

"Has anyone every told you that you're really damn scary?" Alfred finally asked. Ivan just grinned creepily.

"Um, if you ever need any help. You can talk to me," Canada said quietly after a pause. Alfred smiled at his brother.

"Thanks, Matt," he said.

The nations gathered all ordered more food and drinks, and Germany kindly ordered beers for everyone (well, except for Sealand. He got a root beer), and soon enough, everyone wanted to know what had happened since the election.

"What policies did Obama implement?" China asked.

"Has the opposition tried anything?" Russia wanted to know.

"Do you get along with your new boss?" Italy wondered.

"What happened with McCain?" Hungary and Vietnam asked. Alfred sighed and took a long draught of his beer before answering.

"Things haven't been the same since the election," he lamented. "My boss and I get along relatively for the most part, but the divisiveness of everything he does makes me sick... all of the people disagreeing, screaming at each other, trashing each other's property over politics, biting each other's fingers... I think I singlehandedly gave the headache medicine industry a bailout in the past year," Alfred joked. It elicted a few chuckles, but most just looked at him in sympathy. Sealand just looked confused.

"What's a bailout?" he asked England, who did his best to explain it to him, although whether or not he really comprehended the intricacies was up for debate. "So you needed a lot of headache medicine?" he finally asked America, who nodded.

"Unfortunately, yes..."

To Be Continued

Author's Comments:

And now we segway (hee hee... segway) into the next part of the story, now that the election arc is over. And I'm sorry that this chapter is rather boring, but it's kind of necessary before we go on to the next bit of the story.

Other than that, I don't have a whole lot else to explain about this chapter, since it wasn't particularly political.

Again, if there's anything you want to see me cover, feel free to let me know.

-Kaboom


	6. Rational and Irrational

**Warnings: Unlike the last two chapters, this one is rather more controversial. If you take everything you see on the news channels as fact and don't like to hear people refuting that information, please skip this chapter. **

Chapter Six: Rational and Irrational

"Are you sure that this is what you want to focus on?" Alfred asked his boss. "Health care reform is such a divisive issue... it might be better to try to pass some less controversial legislation first, you know, to get the people to understand that you really are on their side."

"No. Health care reform for every American was top on my agenda during the campaign. The people elected me since they trusted me to make good on my promises," Obama replied. Alfred bit his lip. He knew his people too well. Some of them would undoubtedly be very grateful for the extra help. The recession had taken its toll, and millions of people had lost their jobs, and by extension, their health insurance. But there was an equal number of people who were convinced that having nationalized health care was the first step to becoming Soviet America. He articulated these concerns, but Obama waved them away.

"They'll come around in time," he reassured Alfred. "Eventually they will understand that progress cannot be stopped.

* * *

But they didn't. When Congress broke for the summer, many of the the congresspeople went back to their districts to meet with their constituents, most of whom were were not happy. They had started these meetings called "town hall" meetings, which were supposed to be examples of how to have civil discourse in America. Unfortunately., most of these were anything _but_ civil.

A congressman from Texas politely offered Alfred the chance to accompany him to a meeting. Being curious,. Alfred agreed. He would use the opportunity to find out what his people thought. Hey, if he was going to going to be a hero, he might as well work hard to make sure he understood his own people's needs. Besides, they were Americans! How crazy could they get? Americans usually didn't get out of control and riot like citizens of certain other countries did on a regular basis.

But when he arrived at the meeting, Alfred was shocked. So many people, and they all had such shocking signs. One woman had a sign portraying his boss as Hitler! Another protester had an AK-47 machine gun strapped to his back, and Alfred really didn't feel like getting closer to find out if it was real or not. An elderly couple was standing together, clutching desperately at a sign reading "Under Obamacare, we'd be the first to die!" Curious, Alfred approached them.

"If the bill passes, what do you mean, you'd be the first to die?" he asked. The man looked at him suspiciously.

"Are you a plant by the Democrats to find us and rat us out to the government?" he asked. Alfred blinked.

"Um, no. I'm just curious. I would like to understand more about the health care issue, since I don't know very much about it," he replied, stretching the truth a bit. He _did_ know a bit about the bill, but it was true that he wanted to understand the people's motivations. The man regarded him for a few moments, before apparently deciding that America was safe to talk to.

"If this bill passes, the government is going to decide on who gets to live or die," he whispered conspiratorially. "We're going to have to present our medical cases to a death panel, and they will decide if you get the treatment that you need to save your life! And the disabled and elderly will be first to go! They don't want us 'useless eaters' around here!"

Alfred was astounded. He _highly_ doubted that was true, but he still made a mental note to ask his boss about it, just to be on the safe side. The whole sounded like something out of a sci-fi movie. He half expected the man to suddenly jump up and shout "Soylent Green is people!"

"What makes you think that?" he asked, careful to keep his voice neutral. This time it was the elderly woman who answered his question.

"Haven't you been watching the news lately?" she replied. "Sarah Palin knows. The death panels would decide that her parents would have to die because they're old, and that her baby son would have to die because he's disabled. Glenn Beck and Rush Limbaugh agree! They know that we're all doomed! The woman's voice cracked and she started sobbing, while her husband placed a comforting hand on her shoulder..

"You see, they're going to kill us," he said sadly. "My wife has diabetes and I'm pretty sure I have emphysema, but I don't trust the doctors enough to let them look at it. The government is going decide that we're not worth keeping alive any more. I don't... I don't want my baby granddaughter to grow up in such a world." The old woman sniffed in agreement, using the sleeve of her husband's T-shirt to dab at her eyes.

Alfred didn't know what to say. He really wanted to comfort his people, to tell them that everything was going to be alright, that he should know because he _was_ America! But he couldn't because he didn't want let people here to tell people who he really was, so he settled for reassuring the couple that America wouldn't let that that happen, not telling them that in this case, America meant him. To be honest, the encounter with the elderly couple unsettled him him. Alfred knew his boss- the man wouldn't do something like that. But it troubled him that there were people out there who were convinced that the government was willing to let its citizens die based on vague, subjective criteria. In order to get to the bottom of this, Alfred approached another group of people.

"What are your motivations for protesting today?" he asked. The woman who seemed to be in charge of the group wheeled around to face him.

"What are my motivations for protesting?" she asked in a low and deadly voice. "I'll tell you _exactly_ what my motivations are! This administration has decided that they're going to wipe their asses with the constitution of this country! They will hike our taxes to pay for Dear Leader's immoral health-care bill! Do you know that under this administration, our taxes will go to pay for the abortions of loose women! . And by the way, did you know that this guy in the White House isn't even qualified to be the President?" Alfred took a step back from the woman's mostly incoherent rant to try to process what he was hearing. One thing stood out to him, though.

""Huh? What do you mean, he's not qualified to be the President? He won the election..." Alfred queried, not understanding. The woman snorted in disgust.

"You're one stupid motherfucker if you believe that election wasn't rigged. But other than that, our president's father wasn't an American citizen! If Obama was born in Kenya (which I'm certain that he was), then he's not a natural born citizen, and therefore is ineligible to rerve as our president! Why do you think he refuses to show his unedited birth certificate?"

OK, this woman was officially off her rocker. "Maybe he edited some information off of it so he doesn't get his identity stolen?" Alfred suggested. The woman let out a loud, barking laugh.

"HAHAHAHAHAHA! As though anyone would steal that criminal's identity! I don't believe that was the real birth certificate. It looked Photoshopped to me. I don't believe any of the lies that this administration is spouting! You watch yourself, boy! If we're not careful we'll all be calling each other 'comrade' before long!"

Alfred couldn't get out of there fast enough. He had thought that this little excursion might have helped him understand his people more. Now, all Alfred could feel was a mixture of despair, rage, and confusion. He felt very bad for the elderly couple he had met- they seemed to be confused, scared, and misled. And then the woman he had met? He didn't want to think badly of his citizens, but he was tempted. She seemed to deliberately fear-mongering, trying to stir people up. It irritated him, to be honest. Was it too much to ask for his people to not blatantly lie to each other regarding important things?

To Be Continued

Author's Comments:

I apologize if this chapter seems bitter, but that's because it is. I'm trying very hard to remain objective through this story, but I have nothing but contempt for the people who went around trying to scare the elderly and disabled with "OMG DEATHPANELS!" Those people single-handedly terrified my gran into thinking that the government was going to deny her health care because of her age.

If any death-panelers are reading this, I'd like to take this opportunity to say STFU. I'm really unsure of what to think about the health-care bill, bur I don't go around scaring the shit out of people! You reduced a 76-year-old woman to a crying, paranoid mess because she thought that the government wanted to kill her. My gran had been listening to a friend of hers who pretty much said the same things that the second woman portrayed in the chapter did, and this friend had been giving her books and pamphlets about how evil the government was and their insidious plans for the people.

Next chapter continues the town-hall segment, only this time Alfred will actually attend a meeting. Next chapter should be back to the more neutral tone that I would prefer to keep while writing this story. I would like to apologize for the fact that some of my own political beliefs crept into this chapter, but I really can't write about the fear-mongering opportunists without getting a little angry.

-Kaboom


	7. Town Hall Brawl

**Warnings: This chapter contains a dichotomy of people with legitimate concerns that they know how to express, and people who just like to yell about things. As usual, some portrayals may be somewhat offensive to people on both sides. Also, slight violence. **

Chapter Seven: Town Hall Brawl

For a while, Alfred spent some more time talking to the protesters. He learned a lot about the people's fears of health-care reform. Some were legitimate concerns (higher taxes, the national debt becoming even larger than it already was, a shortage of doctors, and the possibility of higher medication prices), while others just sounded like someone had been watching too many bad movies from the 1950s (especially one guy, who had a theory that the health-care reform was really just a front so that radioactive chickens from outer space could invade and take power).

But if he thought the _outside_ provided a myriad of opinions, it was nothing compared to _inside_ the town hall meeting. The senator who had invited Alfred to come with him was trying to take questions regarding the health-care reform. Some of the questions actually made sense, but others seemingly had nothing to do with health reform at all. "How do you expect to fund all of this?" one man asked when he was called on. "I just don't see how Washington intends to implement this considering how much money we already owe, and raising taxes is no solution at all. Already my business is suffering because of higher taxes. I don't think my business can survive if taxes are raised even more for health-care."

"Don't countries with nationalized health-care have a long wait for doctors?"a woman asked. "What happens if we get sick and can't get to a doctor in time?" The senator answered those questions as best as he could, and the people who had asked said questions thanked him politely for his time. Some of them, asked follow-up questions, others still had their doubts. And then one man stepped up to the plate.

"Why do you hate America, you communist?"he shouted. "Why do you hate the constitution?"

"Uh,, well, I'm not a communist,"the poor senator stammered. He had obviously not been expecting that.

"Yes you are!" the man replied. "And you hate America! Why do you hate America?"

"I don't hate America," the senator replied, keeping his calm. "Next question, please?"

"YOU HATE BABIES!" a woman screeched. "Why do you want to kill innocent babies?"

"Ma'am, no one wants to kill babies-" the senator began, but the woman didn't let him finish.

"YOUR EVIL BILL IS GOING TO PAY FOR ABORTIONS!" she hollered. The senator tried to explain to her that it was very unlikely that the bill would provide funding for elective abortions, but the woman wasn't listening. "The government is turning into Nazi Germany!" she cried. Once she finished her rant, the senator called on a different person.

"My question is somewhat related to that," he began slowly. "I am concerned that the bill would fund elective abortions, which I believe are morally wrong. I do not want my tax dollars to pay for that." OK, this the senator could work with.

"Many Democrats, as well as Republicans, are pro-life," he said. "The health-care bill is very unlikely to pass with a provision to pay for elective abortions. That said, however, if the mother's life is in danger it is the responsibility of the doctor to protect her life first." The man nodded, understanding.

Alfred felt slightly sick to his stomach, and reassured at the same time. A strange combination, he realized. This was what the state of discourse in America had come to. There were some people who actually knew how to bring their concerns to the attention of their representatives in an organized, sane manner. They had legitimate concerns, and they knew how to express said concerns without resorting to childish name-calling and insane conspiracy theories. Others, however, saw the old grade-school belief of "whoever yells loud enough wins the argument" as the best way to make their points heard. Just yell whatever derogatory things they could think of, and they would ,declare themselves the winner by default. People screaming at each other, calling each other Nazis, and some of them didn't even seem to know what the hell they were protesting in the first place.

Wanting to clear his head, Alfred wandered into a different room in the hall, coming across two people engaged in a very heated debate (to put it mildly).

"I moved to this country in 1989 and became a citizen in 2002!" a man with a slight British accent was shouting at a man wearing a hat that said "Limbaugh/Hannity 2012"on it. "I love this country, but the health-care system is a fucking joke! Insurance companies are nothing but a bunch of lying bastards! Back home in Britain, the NHS takes care of our medical issues! We don't constantly worry about the insurance companies suddenly raising our premiums!" The other man let out a barking laugh before spitting in his face.

"Yeah, right! You say you're from Britain? More likely you're from Russia and just pretending to be British! And no American citizen would think that we need to be more like any other country! You're un-American!" It was then that this guy noticed Alfred lurking in the background. "Hey, boy, you're a real American, right?" Alfred froze. He _really_ did not want to get involved in this, but now that the guy had noticed him, he really didn't have much of a choice. And somehow, he had a feeling the man would chase him if he tried to get away.

"More than you know," he replied. This man had no idea that Alfred was about as close to being a real American as you can get. The man laughed.

"Honesty. I like that. Now tell this bastard here that universal health-care is fucking communism!"

"Um..." Alfred so eloquently replied, caught off-guard.

"Come on! What are you waiting for?" the "real American" yelled angrily. "Or are you a communist too and just pretending to be a real American?"

"You know, I've had about enough of your bullshit!" the British man said irritably. "You don't know what you're talking about! Just shut the fuck up!" That was the wrong thing to say.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" the angry American man growled. "You fucking commie, as if you have the right to say that!"Before Alfred had a chance to process what was happening, the man decked his argument opponent, who staggered back, wheezing.

"You shouldn't have done that," he muttered in a low and deadly voice once he'd caught his breath. The one who threw the first punch just smirked.

"What are you gonna do about it, commie?" he asked smugly.

"This." Before he could react, the man doubled over from a punch to the solar plexus. Immediately, someone noticed what had happened and screamed "FIGHT!" With that one word, all hell broke loose. People it into each other, screaming insults and obscenities, picking up random objects to chuck at people, and biting each other. Alfred watched in revulsion as two people who appeared to be about college-age, both locked into combat, turned to some rather dirty tricks to beat each other. One aimed a punch below the belt, while the other sank his teeth into his opponent's wrist.

"This is ridiculous," Alfred muttered under his breath. Doing his best to avoid getting drawn into the fray, he tried to find the congressman who invited him to the meeting so he could get out of there. He didn't want to just leave, but he didn't think that he could take much more of this. The overdrive emotions that his citizens were feeling all around him were taking a toll on his mental well-being. He needed a break.

"Oh god, Alfred!" the congressman exclaimed. "You're alright? You're not hurt, are you? I was answering a question about whether or not the bill would cover treatment for ADHD when the door to the other room opened and the fight moved out! You're not hurt, are you?"

"Physically, no!" Alfred yelled to be heard above the din of the brawl raging in the background. "But I can't believe that the American people would do something like this, rather than discuss things rationally! Have we forgotten everything about how to have national discourse?" The congressman sighed.

"You're asking me," he replied. "I honestly don't know. But welcome to the state of politics in the 21st century."

To Be Continued

Author's Comments:

Last summer I threw my back out and couldn't get off the sofa without being in extreme pain for about a week. As a result, I watched a lot of television news (and Looney Tunes, but that's not important now), and in one state (I can't remember which one), a fight broke out at a town-hall meeting. It got pretty ugly, with people biting each other's fingers and attacking each other at seemingly random intervals. From what I understand, it started because a man who had immigrated from a country with nationalized health care was trying to explain about how his country's system worked, and someone's dissent got out of hand. Predictably, all hell broke loose. The whole thing nearly turned into a riot, and some guy's finger nearly got bitten off. That's where the idea for this chapter came from.

Oh, and the radioactive space chicken thing? You can thank a friend of mine for that. He was irritated with his AP Government teacher for giving his debate opponent the win (they were debating health-care reform, and my friend is a firm believer that the health-care bill should not pass, that the government would just fubar the reform), so he wrote up a paper claiming that the health-care reform was really just a distraction so that chickens from Uranus could take over the government and enslave humanity. His reasoning? If she wasn't going to accept a rational, well-thought-out argument against it he might as well come up with the most ridiculous thing he could think of.

Needless to say, it didn't work. Although it was hilarious, like something Steven Colbert would come up with.

-Kaboom


	8. Billions to Bailout

**Warnings: Standard warnings with a chance of failed financial interpretation. **

Chapter Eight: Billions to Bailout

"Yeah, your country is full of loud people. But I still don't really understand what a bailout is! If someone could actually _tell_ me, that would be nice!" Sealand exclaimed. His older brother looked scandalized.

"Peter!" Arthur exclaimed. "Don't be so bloody rude!"

"But whaaaat?" the micro-nation whined. "You keep using terms I don't understand! How am I supposed to figure out how to be a real nation if I don't understand what you're talking about? Bailouts? What are those? What do they do?" Arthur looked ready to scold Sealand again, but Alfred jumped in.

"Don't worry. I'll explain this," he said. "Peter, I don't know if you have heard anything about this or not, but the world economy is in trouble. To keep the American economy from failing and having so many people out of work, we had to do something, starting with one of the biggest companies in America..."

* * *

March 2008

Alfred wasn't really sure why everyone seemed to panicking. He had been jolted abruptly awake at 7:00 AM by a rather alarmed Dick Cheney (which resulted in a rather alarmed Alfred Jones- it's not every day that you wake up to Dick Cheney looming over your bed ), who begged him to get down to the White House immediately. Alfred obliged- he wasn't about to turn down a request like that, not when it seemed to be so serious.

Before too long, Alfred was greeted by George W. Bush and a man who was very familiar, but Alfred couldn't exactly place him. "Oh good god, you're here, Alfred," Bush said, a tinge of hysteria in his voice. "You remember Ben Bernanke, the chairman of the Federal Reserve?" Ah. Yes. That's who that guy was.

"It's nice to see you again, Mr. Bernanke," Alfred said politely. The man just sighed.

"I wish I could say the same, Mr. Jones," he replied. "I actually wish that I didn't have to be here to day, but President Bush, as well as Ms. Pelosi believe that we should talk to you before we do this. She's not here, though, she's busy talking to Congress."

"Do what?" Alfred asked, growing more concerned by the second. Something was seriously wrong- why else would Nancy Pelosi be discussing things with the Republican presidential administration unless something was seriously wrong?

"Bear Stearns is failing," Bernanke said. "If it fails, the American economy fails. We might go into another depression. Yesterday, JP Morgan Chase offered to buy the company so that it doesn't completely fail, at $2.00 per share of stock. Are you following me?" he abruptly asked.

"Yes..." Alfred's voice trailed off. "What does this have to do with me, though, other than affecting my economy? I'm not really in charge of this..."

"We thought that we should ask you, since _you're_ the one who has everything to lose if the company goes under," Bush interrupted. "But no matter what we do, the economy is going to take a hit. What do _you_ think we should do?"

Alfred was honestly shocked. No one had ever asked him about economic issues, not since the inflation crisis in the 1970s, and even then he hadn't been all that involved. "Um, well, what would happen if JP Morgan Chase did not take on Bear Stearns?" he asked.

"Not only would the American economy suffer, but the world's economy might have problems," Bernanke explained. "Bear Stearns is a major international corporation with large stakes in the economies of several countries."

"I know that!" Alfred snapped, immediately feeling bad. He hadn't intended for it to come out so harshly. But this was a lot of information to process in a short amount of time, and these people wanted him to make the decision! Alfred was used to making decisions about things for his country, but when it came to things as important as the economy, he really preferred to have more time to think them, through. The last time he had been pressured into making fiscal policu without weighing all the options, the Great Depression had intensified.

Finally, Alfred nodded. If it was to protect his country's economy, even if it meant bailing out a corporation who had gotten into their own mess because of their own corruption, he would take their advice. "All right. Do the bailout."

* * *

2008-2009

It was a few months later that President Bush called up Alfred again, this time in the middle of dinner. "Alfred, I'm sorry to bother you at this hour, but have you heard about the automotive industry crisis?" Alfred took a moment to finish his bite of burger, and then answered.

"Yes," he replied. "What about it?"

"General Motors is going under," Bush sighed. Alfred didn't even need to hear the man finish to know what he was going to say next. "If it fails, millions more jobs will be lost." He took a deep breath that Alfred could hear quite clearly, and then continued: "Alfred, most of what used to be American manufacturing jobs have been outsourced. The Big Three only really are competitive in the SUV market. We need to bail out the American car companies. It might manage to save some of the jobs before they are outsourced or slashed completely."

"You have already discussed the with Fed and Congress?" Alfred asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yes."

Alfred was silence for a moment. The Bear Stearns issue had maybe saved his economy from complete collapse, but many American citizens were extremely angry about it. Lots of them felt that the government was cheating them, by using their tax dollars to save corporations that they felt didn't deserve their help.

It didn't help that some Americans felt that if companies like Toyota and Hyundai and BMW made better cars, then what did it matter if Ford, GM, and Chrysler failed?

But them again, Detroit was becoming a wasteland. So many Americans had lost their jobs already. Refusing to help those companies would be kicking them while they were down. So he said only one thing to his president: "All right."

* * *

"So, that's what a bailout is," Alfred said by way of finishing up his explanation. Sealand looked up at him, and unreadable expression on his face.

"So you just gave corporations money?" he asked.

"Well, sort of, they still have to pay it back, though. And recently, General Motors paid off their debt," Alfred replied. Sealand seemed to accept that.

"So THAT'S what a bailout is!"

To Be Continued

Author's Comments:

I really hate this chapter, and feel like I really failed to explain the bailouts. I did take a finance class, but my teacher was psychotic and usually just screamed at us about how much Microsoft PowerPoint sucked instead of teaching us anything useful. Oh, and we had quizzes with questions like "What is the base color of American currency?" I shit you not, that was seriously what we did. As a result, I don't know a whole lot about the economy. And while I did read a lot about the bailouts, I still don't think it was enough. I apologize for any inaccuracies in this chapter- I did my best, but I still think it sucks.

-Kaboom


	9. Politically Skewed Punditry

**Warning: Rather snarky commentary on television political pundits... no matter what their political leanings are. **

Chapter Nine: Politically Skewed Punditry

Alfred sighed heavily and stared moodily off into a corner of the pub. Nervously, some of the other nations watched him as he suddenly called for another drink and downed it without a second thought.

"Do you think it's OK for him to drink like that?" Feliciano wondered quietly. "What if he gets sick?"

"Well, it _was_ only his second beer," Arthur whispered. "But if he does something stupid I'll put a stop to it. Don't forget, this is still my bloody country. If he does anything idiotic I'll make sure that he fixes it. Or else."

"You know what would be nice right now?" Ivan said, rather cheerily considering the general mood at the table. "Vodka!"

"It's not fair!" Alfred suddenly cried out, slamming the empty beer glass down on the table with more force than was probably necessary. The Russian man looked confused.

"Vodka isn't fair?"

"No, no, not the damn vodka!" Alfred exclaimed. "I work all the time to make sure that the citizens of my country of my country are happy and content, and what do they do? They turn around and practically revolt! Instead of actually trying to find out information on their own, they just listen to whatever television pundit is on Fox News at the time! Oh, and don't get me started on MSNBC, or CNN, or any of the other networks! They're just as bad! Sean Hannity is a douchebag. So is Keith Olbermann!"

"..." was the general consensus around the table. Alfred took their silence as an invitation to continue.

"I mean, good god!" he yelled. "Half the time none of these pundits bother to check their facts and then complain when someone calls them out on it, never mind that they do the exact same thing to the other side! And goddammit, Glenn Beck, I don't want any merchandise! I'm not going to advertise one side over the other!"

"What in the world are you talking about?" Francis asked, completely baffled. Alfred snorted.

"Every time he sees me, Glenn Beck tries to get me to take a bunch of his tea party stuff! I always feel like an asshole because I can't take it, and then he's so... I don't know, _cool with it! _Then he starts ranting about one of his conspiracy theories, and then I don't feel so bad anymore!" Alfred sighed and buried his head in his arms. It felt nice to get that off his chest...

"Yes, I can see how that might be awkward," Kiku agreed. "I would find it unpleasant to have to turn down gifts so kindly offered to me."

"Hmph," came Alfred's voice, still buried in his arms. "It has nothing to do with being kind! He just wants publicity from the guy who _is_ his country! If America supports his movement, then the establishment will _have_ to take notice, and if it makes things awkward, then fuck it! It doesn't matter to these people! And it's not just conservative commentators, you know, although it seems like it since there's more of them. Keith Olbermann won't leave me alone, not since I made the mistake of going on Rush Limbaugh's radio show. That day, he ranted about Limbaugh and the people who agreed to go on his show."

It almost happened completely synchronized: everyone's mouths dropped open in shock. "You're kidding," Elizaveta gaped, frying pan twitching in her grasp. "Doesn't he realize who you are?"

"He seriously complained about you because you want on Rush Limbaugh's show?" Arthur couldn't believe his ears. Alfred, again, just heaved a heavy sigh.

"Well, he _was_ mad because I turned him down to go on Limbaugh's show, but that was because he asked me first! Maybe it wasn't the best thing to do, but it was just polite!"

"Did you explain it to him?" Ivan asked curiously.

"Yeah, when I went on his show the next week," came Alfred's slightly bitter reply. "Then he spent the rest of the program ranting about right-wing nutjobs and how he was glad that I cam around! And now he's trying to get me to go back, ever since Glenn Beck humiliated me on national television!"

"Are you referring to the boxers or briefs situation?" Hungary asked. Alfred nodded, the look on his face one of pure horror.

"Because of that, I keep getting emails from Fruit of the Loom, wanting me to be the spokesperson for their new line of America-themed underwear! I don't even know what that's supposed to _mean!"_

"Maybe boxers with a picture of Florida in a strategic place?" France laughed lecherously, causing England to whack him upside the head.

"Wanker."

"Ow! That's not fair!"

"And the most awkward thing about these guys is that I just can't hate them. Most of them are pretty normal people when they're not on their programs. Glenn Beck has worked hard to overcome his problems, like alcoholism and ADHD. Keith Olbermann really cared about his father and really likes baseball. They're just normal people, and it's hard to see these people who would probably be the kind of guys you'd want to hang out with stir up the citizens with poorly researched opinions. The scary thing is, most of the political commentators on the television have followers that would jump off a cliff if they told them to."

But no one heard anything. France and England were still engaged in hand-to-hand combat, and everyone else was busy trying to pry them apart before they hurt someone.

Ignoring the two dueling nations, Alfred slumped in his chair. Originally, he thought that telling someone about his pundit problem might make him feel better, but instead, he just felt embarrassed. Damn it, why did no one else have problems with insane political commentators obsessed with trying to give him coffee mugs and T-shirts, or being practically bipolar in their attitude towards everything, or asking questions that resulted them in getting spammed by companies that manufacture underpants!

For not the first time in his life, Alfred found himself asking the question- why were his citizens so _weird_ about certain things?

To Be Continued

Author's Comments:

So I realized that I really failed pretty epically on the bailout chapter, so I'm working on rewriting it with more correct information. I'll replace chapter eight as soon as I'm done with it.

I can honestly say that I do not like any of the political pundits on the television or the radio, no matter what their political views are. I think they take it too far, and that they need to be more conscious of what they put on their programs since there are viewers who take what their favorite pundit says as gospel truth. I think that they all need some fact-checkers, and need to watch what they say. Of course, they're entitled to their beliefs, and they can even share their views on their television programs, but I do think that they should be a little more aware of the possible repercussions that could come from them stirring up potentially volatile people.

-Kaboom


	10. A Big Fucking Deal

**Warnings: If you've read my work before, you're probably used to my terrible language seeping into what I write, but this is basically a chapter dedicated to the F-bomb. Oh, and Joe Biden. Like Sarah Palin, he gets his own warning. :P **

Chapter Ten: A Big Fucking Deal

March 23, 2010

The health-care reform bill had finally passed, and the bill-signing ceremony was being televised live. The vice president was giving a special speech on this historic day.

Actually, Obama had really wanted Alfred to be present at the signing, but that morning the nation had woken up with a sore throat, a bad headache, and a 102 F fever. Obviously, he was in no shape to attend any political events. So he compromised by propping himself up in bed on pillows, and a hot mug of that disgusting lemon tea Arthur had given him (but it was good for sore throats, so he just sucked it up and drank it), and the television remote to watch the coverage. It was the least he could do; it was very important to Obama that the man who was the personification of his nation see historic legislation passed. And it was standard procedure, anyway, for Alfred to be present at important legislative events. He had witnessed the Emancipation Proclamation, the ratification of the 19th Amendment, the Civil Rights Act, and the Americans with Disabilities Act. But due to circumstances beyond his control, Alfred found himself unable to present for the health-care reform.

Anyway, he watched as Biden finished his speech, walked over to Obama, and muttered, "This is a big fucking deal," to the head of state. Obviously, the comment was meant to be personal, for the president's ears only. It certainly was not supposed to be broadcast on live TV across the entire country. But Biden had made a serious miscalculation by underestimating the sensitivity of the television microphones.

In fact, Alfred wasn't even sure that he'd even heard it at all. Maybe it was just the fever talking, and he was hallucinating sounds. But moments later, his cell phone rang, and he answered it, voice raspy from the illness. "Yeah?"

"Good lord, you sound bloody awful," he heard Arthur's clipped British accent on the other end of the line. "What happened to you?"

"Got a fever..." Alfred coughed back, Arthur started to make a sympathetic sound, but then seemingly remembered what he was calling about.

"So health-care reform is a big fucking deal, huh?" he asked. "Well, congratulations on finally joining the ranks of the other first-world countries. I'd say that it's bloody well a big fucking deal!" Alfred blinked.

"Oh god, he really said that?" he groaned. "I thought it was my fever talking. Oh god, the Republicans are really going to make this into a big fucking deal now, and the FCC is going to be all over this! Housewives in middle America are going to complain like crazy! The pundits are all going to want me to go on their shows and talk about how this national disgrace has affected me! Goddammit, I just want to go back to sleep!" If he had been thinking clearly, he would have realized that he was talking like a crazy person, but at that point, Alfred truly believed that there was going to be a national incident. Arthur sighed. If he'd known Alfred wasn't feeling well he wouldn't have brought it up at all... America had a tendency to not think rationally while he was ill.

"Then go back to sleep," he said calmly. "I'll call you back later, alright?" Alfred nodded, although he knew the British man was unable to see him.

"Thanks."

Once he hung up the phone, Alfred went back to sleep. He shut off the television and crawled back under the sheets, hugging a pillow to his chest. When you're sick, there's nothing better than cuddling up with a nice, fluffy pillow.

He woke up several hours later, in a much better state of mind. He was pretty certain that his fever had gone down a bit, and he was feeling strong enough to walk into the kitchen and grab a box of crackers to nibble on while he checked his phone messages. He was expecting maybe one or two missed call, probably from Samuel Alito regarding the actual intent of the framers of the Constitution, and maybe a few text messages from Ivan (Putin had gotten Ivan a new cell phone with an unlimited data plan. Unfortunately for everyone else, said phone had a camera, and Ivan had lately been entertaining himself by sending picture texts to everyone in his address book of random stuff lying around Russia). What Alfred did not expect, however, was a bunch of messages from congresspeople telling him to look at the blogs, and some forwarded angry messages from constituents. All, of course, were about Joe Biden's lack of decorum.

"Absolutely inappropriate!" one blogger raged. "Isn't the government supposed to be responsible for keeping its politicians in line? Why, if the Founding Fathers knew that we elected this clown as our vice president, they'd be turning in their graves!"

"Does he have any sense of when to open his mouth and when to keep it shut?" a different blogger complained.

"Mr. Jones! You are supposed to be responsible for briefing all political leaders on proper behavior, and Joe Biden failed miserably to uphold those standards!" a very angry Republican congressman had left on his voicemail. "You need to pick up the pace, or we're going to be the laughingstock of the entire world!"

But not everyone was angry about it, though. The head of a certain media watchdog group called and expressed irritation that Biden was so unaware of the problems that his seeming inability to censor himself caused, but also that he thought it was kind of funny, personally. A few messages were from politicians expressing support for Biden.

"He's goddamn right it's a big fucking deal!" Nancy Pelosi exclaimed on the message that she had left. "There's nothing wrong with telling it like it is! And if they can't fucking handle it, then they can get the fuck out! Just because they're too fucking immature to handle a little adult language doesn't mean that they get to run the country, and they can't set our decency standards!"

Even Biden himself had called to apologize to Alfred. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry," he dithered into the phone. "But I was just telling the truth! It really is a big fucking deal! But now I'm afraid that everyone is going to make a big fucking deal out of my gaffe and detract from the real big fucking deal!" Alfred had to laugh. Typical Biden. Leave it to him to apologize for dropping the F-word by dropping more F-words.

Still, Alfred hoped that people would forget about the gaffe soon. After all, politicians said stupid shit all the time, and while people might laugh at the mistake for a while, it would eventually be relegated to late-night comedy show reruns (Dan Quayle's "potatoe" being an example). But for several more days, all anyone seemed to talk about was Joe Biden's rudeness.

"He's a big effing failure, that's what he is!" a caller to a radio show roared. "A _classy_ VP would never drop the F-bomb on live national TV!"

"BIDEN'S POTTY MOUTH!" a supermarket tabloid's headline screamed.

"What does it mean for our country's future if the higher-ups do not know how to watch their language?" one daytime talk-show hostess asked her viewers. "Already if you walk into a high school you will hear all the students yelling 'F this!' and 'God-D that!' and 'This is BS!', only you won't hear them use the euphemisms! Already it's a problem among teenagers! But what if our children hear the vice president of the United States using foul language, and then they decide that they want to be like him? We'll have an epidemic of cursing kindergartners on the loose!"

"This country is on the fast-track to damnation!" a televangelist yowled. "Corrupt speech is the sign of a corrupt heart, and if the heart of this country is so obviously corrupt, then what can we say about the average citizen? Repent while you still have the chance!"

Even so, others were complaining about how the other side was making a federal case out of an off-the-cuff quip that hadn't been meant for television. "If it wasn't a big fucking deal before, it is now, and it's not because of Joe Biden!" one blogger wrote. "Some people made a mountain out of a molehill, and we lost sight of what really is important: we passed health-care reform, for better or for worse."

A mountain out of a molehill. That sounded about right, Alfred though.

To Be Continued

Author's Comments:

A reader wanted a chapter about Joe Biden, so here you go.

To be perfectly honest, this was really hard to write. I personally like Joe Biden, I think he's hilarious, so it was kind of difficult to keep a neutral tone throughout this chapter. Well, at least I hope I managed to keep it sarcastic enough.

Actually, this chapter is kind of based on real events. I had a stomach virus on March 23, and I stayed home and watched the ceremony. I did hear Biden's comment, and didn't really think anything of it. I will admit it: I curse _a lot_ . The people I work with curse a lot. My dad curses at everything ("Where the fuck is my fucking newspaper? Did you put it in the fucking bin already!"), so I didn't really see it as being a big deal. However, the next day I went back to my daily routine, and let me tell you- Biden's F-bomb was the only thing anyone talked about. One of my teachers went on a tangent about how disgraceful it was that governmen officials don't have the decency to not swear on national television. A friend of my family (who has always been like an extra grandmother to me) actually did think that because Joe Biden swears, little kids are going to start cursing a blue streak whenever something doesn't go their way. Nana, I love you, but seriously? Most little kids don't watch television news.

I probably overdid the reactions, but hey- it was supposed to be sarcastic. Thanks for reading!

-Kaboom


	11. Slick Oil

**Warnings: Standard warnings this chapter, but please read the note at the end of the chapter for some clarifications. **

Chapter Eleven: Slick Oil

One of the few things that could provoke widespread international outrage in every single community was an oil spill. The world got its first taste of this when the Exxon Valdez crashed off the coast of Alaska in the 1980s. That spill killed much wildlife and polluted the ocean, and for a long time, it was considered to be one of the worst environmental disasters ever. Well, until the BP oil rig explosion, at least.

It was April of 2010. No one was exactly certain what happened, but it became apparent very quickly that this was an unprecedented environmental disaster. Oil leaked from the wreckage at an alarming rate, poisoning the ocean, killing fish, and covering sea birds in a brown, slimy muck. The spill also caused problems for humans- the total cost of the wasted oil was in the billions of dollars by the sixth week of the leak. So much of that oil could have been used, and not just to refine into gasoline, but once it hit the water, the thick black liquid was rendered useless by dilution and salt contamination. And the economic impact was felt by more than just oil companies.

The Gulf of Mexico, where the oil leaked, was where much of the fish that America consumes came from. But because the oil had contaminated the sea and killed the fish, the fishermen had to stop fishing, which hurt their incomes. In fact, the spill was so severe that miles and miles of coastline had to be evacuated.

"Haven't the BP executives managed to figure out how to put a stop to this?" Alfred asked Arthur during an emergency meeting between the leaders of the two nations. The British man shook his head, lips pressed into a grim line.

"Everything they have tried so far has failed, he replied. "But they're doing their best. They've asked for experts on this sort of thing from around the world for help."

"This is terrible for the economy!" Alfred said despairingly. "We were just beginning to get out of recession... now the fishing and tourism industries are being affected! And it's not good for the oil companies, either! We're going to slip right back into recession thanks to this, and this time it might be even deeper than it was before!"

"Tell me about it," Arthur muttered. "Petrol prices are going to skyrocket because of this!"

"Not to mention that the price of the oil companies' stock is falling... if the oil stock falls, other stock falls," Alfred added. "And look at what it's done to the environment! I thought the Exxon Valdez was bad, but this could screw up the Gulf of Mexico for years!"

* * *

But the leak continued, despite BP's efforts to stop it. They called in experts from everywhere- engineers, technicians, environmental scientists, even the director of _Titanic_ and _Avatar_ (for his knowledge of underwater camera technology... after all, they couldn't send a diver down into the oil-stained water to see what was going on), but nothing worked. The oil continued to leak into the sea, with no end in sight, and the damage continued to be done.

The people who lived in the Gulf Coast region grew angrier with every passing day, and rightfully so. "My husband is a fisherman, and he hasn't been able to go to work in over a month!" a heavily pregnant woman raged into a television camera. "I'm the one bringing in the money right now from the hair salon, but who knows how much longer I'll be able to support us? My twins are due in a few weeks!"

"I used to take tourists on my boat for dolphin-watching trips," a man complained. "Now there's no dolphins. Just this brown, oily crap."

"I _work_ for BP," a man said sadly. "My neighbors have threatened to kill me, my tires have been slashed three times in the past two months, my house gets egged at least once a week, and I might lose my job. I had nothing do with the oil rig! I'm just a network administrator, I don't even know anything about oil!"

Alfred turned off the television, unable to watch any more. Every time there was a disaster of this magnitude people suffered, but it was always extremely difficult for Alfred. He hated seeing his people miserable.

And the people weren't the only ones miserable. Every day, more images of dead and dying wildlife hit the Internet. Seagulls covered in so much oil that they looked like they had been dipped in chocolate, dead brown lumps that were barely recognizable as fish, seabirds desperately trying to fly despite being coated in dead dinosaur liquid... the pictures were enough to make even the most desensitized person ill.

As soon as the first picture was posted, the environmental activists started screaming for blood. "How many more innocent sea creature are going to die unnecessarily before BP stops this madness?" one raged.

"Is this the kind of message we want to send to our children?" another activist shouted at a television reporter. "That they can ruin the earth and then take no responsibility for their actions?"

* * *

Though, probably the strangest thing about the whole incident was who was getting the blame for the oil spills. While most people felt that the blame lay solely with BP executives, some blamed the average BP worker. People began to drive past BP gas station, refusing to support the evil corporation, despite the fact that the people running the gas station had nothing to do with the oil rig's explosion. Most of them had never even been anywhere near the BP headquarters, and others of them weren't even 100% sure how the gas they sold went from oil to petrol.

Still others blamed the president. Alfred was waiting for a meeting with one of the White House speechwriters when he overheard some interns talking.

"My dad says it's all President Obama's fault," one of them said, taking a sip of her coffee.

"How?" her companion asked, clearly confused. "It's not like he blew up the rig himself, right? He doesn't even have anything to do with BP! No offense, Melissa, but your dad is an idiot. How could the president be the one behind the oil spill?" Melissa shrugged.

"He said he read it on the Internet from a source he trusts," she replied. "But you've met my dad..." The other intern snorted.

"Yeah, he probably read it on WorldNetDaily," he said.

"Well, you know, it's not just my dad, though," Melissa responded. "There's plenty of people out there who blame the Obama administration for this. They say he hasn't enforced the environmental regulations enough."

"As though the Bush administration did any better," the male intern scoffed. "Trust me, Godzilla could show up and eat every single Democrat in government, and once they stopped celebrating, they'd blame Obama for letting his political party get eaten. Not that the other end of the spectrum is any better, though. They'd just blame Bush."

The interns decided to go about their business as usual, leaving Alfred to think. It was true- no matter what went wrong, the opposing party of the president would find some way to pin the blame on him. It was happening with Obama, it had happened with both Bushes, it had happened with Carter, it had happened with Lincoln... all the way back through America's history, the party out of power blamed the president for everything, even if it didn't make much sense.

Alfred sighed. It had really come to this, had it? An environmental disaster caused by corporate greed, consumer demand, and shitty safety standards was being blamed one someone who had nothing to do with it.

Somehow, Alfred felt that if people put half as much effort into finding a solution as they did laying blame, the oil spill issue might have already been resolved.

To Be Continued

Really Long Author's Comments:

I really debated about whether or not to post this chapter (that's why this chapter took such a long time to be posted), because no matter what I wrote about this, someone was likely to take it the wrong way. So, please do not take this chapter as an attack on the oil industry as a whole, or even on the entirety to BP. I have nothing against any of the oil companies. The majority of employees at these corporations have nothing to do with the oil spill and are just as shocked by it as everyone else. If you take this as an attack on anything, take it as an attack on the corporate greed that led BP executives to make the decisions to cut the safety standards.

I know several people who work for BP. They are all very good people who have never done anything to anybody, but they are getting abuse because of who their employer is. Not everyone who works for BP is evil. In fact, 99% of the company had nothing to do with the oil spill. So to the assholes who have been harassing my friends and their families, knock it off. You're not doing the earth any favors by acting like a stupid douchebag.

Don't get me wrong, I think that BP should answer for what they have done. Not only have they polluted the Gulf of Mexico for what is likely to be years, their desire to save money by cutting corners on safety has cost the lives of some of their workers. Many others will likely be laid off in the coming months. In fact, it's likely that BP will not survive as a company after this. But it's not just BP workers who have been affected... like I mentioned in this chapter, people in the Gulf region are suffering too. Many fishermen have lost their jobs temporarily, maybe permanently depending on how long it takes to clean the spill up. The tourism industry is suffering, because you can't go to the beach with blobs of oil all over the sand. And I extend my condolences to the families of the workers killed in the explosion.

Also, to those blaming Obama for the disaster: Uh, _why? _I know a lot of people do not approve of Obama's policies, but really? Blaming him for the oil spill doesn't make any sense. He wasn't the one who slacked on the Deepwater Horizon's safety standards. He wasn't the one who put thousands of employees' jobs and safety at risk. He wasn't the one who blew up the oil rig. He wasn't the one who killed the sea creatures. If you want to be angry with Obama, at least try to make sure your reasoning is sound.

-Kaboom


	12. The Mad Tea Party, part 1

**Warnings: Immature puns, potentially controversial depictions of the extreme right (although that's more next chapter than this one...)**

Chapter Twelve: The Mad Tea Party, part 1

Even though Alfred had just finished discussing something as serious as the Gulf of Mexico oil spill, it seemed that his companions were still stuck on the whole pundit issue. "Honestly, if that's the way your commentators act, then I'm shocked that it didn't get to you before now!" Feliciano exclaimed. "But your people don't act the same way, vee?"

"Of course they do!" Alfred snapped, his voice coming out harsher than he intended it to. "And then they take what they hear from their favorite pundit and start acting out based on what they hear! There's this movement called the Tea Party-"

"For god's sake, you lot haven't stopped throwing tea in the bloody harbor?" Arthur interrupted. "I thought you grew out of that phase!"

"_I'm _not the one throwing tea off boats anymore! There's not even any real tea involved, anyway! They're basically a bunch of protests held all over the country, and at first, they called themselves _teabaggers_, of all things!" Ivan snickered, Kiku looked as though he was trying really hard not to laugh, and Arthur's eyebrows raised. The others either had a quiet chuckle or shared looks of disgust. Well, all except for Peter, who just looked confused.

"I don't get it," the micro-nation said.

"Well, uh, it's, well..." Arthur stalled for time, really not wanting to explain to the tiny nation what was meant by that comment. Yao coughed and looked away politely, prompting ,ost of the others to do the same. Ivan, however, just smirked.

"Peter," he began, "that word is used to describe an act in which-" here he was cut off by a whack upside the head wit a frying pan. Rubbing his temple, he glared furiously, coming face to face with an angry Elizaveta, who was holding her pan like a baseball bat.

"Don't even think about finishing that sentence," she warned Ivan under her breath before turning to Sealand. "Peter," she said, schooling her facial features into a softer expression. "Teabagging is when you drop a tea bag on someone's head." The boy looked disappointed.

"That's all?" he questioned.

"Yes," the woman replied, the look in her eyes challenging anyone who would dare to contradict her. Arthur mouthed a silent "thank you," and Elizaveta responded by flashing him a glance that clearly said, "you owe me." To offset any tensions that had arisen, Francis cleared his throat.

"So... how about that tea party, no?"

* * *

September 12, 2009

If Alfred thought that the town hall meetings had been packed, they had nothing on the sheer number of people crammed on the National Mall that Saturday, and that was nothing compared the rest of the people spread out all over D.C. People of all different walks of life were gathered to protest the Obama administration's policies. Some people were taking things way out of proportion, however, and attacking the person instead of the policies. If Alfred had a quarter for every sign that was dripping with thinly veiled racism, he'd be able to buy the entire McDonald's corporation. And if he had a penny for every sign that mentioned socialism, he'd have enough money to pay off the national debt... AND buy Microsoft. Seriously, that word was everywhere.

"Hey, mister!" a voice called. "Do you want a free hat?" Alfred turned around to see a rather friendly-looking guy with a bunch of hats, all emblazoned with the phrase "The 9-12 Project."

"Um, sure," the nation replied, taking one. "Thank you."

"No problem," the guy said, a faint Southern accent coloring his words. "Where are you from?"

"A lot of places," Alfred replied, not exactly sure how to explain to someone that he was his country. But figuring that he might as well do the thing properly, he added: "But I live here in Washington D.C. Now. I came out today to see what was going on." The hat man nodded.

"So you live here, huh? What's it like, living so close to the center of all this corruption?"

"Traffic-y," Alfred deadpanned. The man burst into laughter.

"So it's not just me, then!" he exclaimed. "I thought the traffic here was awful, but where I'm from the roads aren't very busy. I thought that maybe I just wasn't used to it." Alfred had to ask. The D.C. area was notorious for its traffic problems.

"No, the traffic here is particularly bad," he said. "I _live_ here and it's hard to deal with!" The two of them joked about the terrible traffic for a while, before Alfred decided to ask his new friend a question. "So what is it exactly that you're protesting for? What brought you out here today?" The man sighed heavily.

"I'm worried that with all of this health-care reform that my taxes are going to skyrocket. I can barely afford to pay them now. If this passes, then my taxes are going to be so high that I don't know how I'll pay them, and I might even lose my house!" Alfred nodded.

"I understand," he said simply.

"Also, what about the quality of the care?" the man asked. "Right now I can't afford particularly good medical care but if doctors get paid less than they do now because of this, what are they going to do about that? What if they decide to slack off on the health-care because they're not getting paid as well as they are now?" Alfred could tell that these things were really plaguing the man. He obviously wasn't from the richest tiers of society, and probably didn't have the best health-care now anyway. He was afraid that his already poor-quality care would get worse if the bill passed.

"I don't think that decent doctors would cut their work quality because of this," Alfred replied. "If they would, then they were a crappy doctor in the first place." The man seemed to ponder this for a bit, then suddenly seemed to think of something.

"Hey, what's your name, anyway?" he asked. "What organization are you with?"

"Alfred F. Jones, and I'm not with any organization... just interested in what Americans think. It's kind of important to me, see?"

"I'm Joel Snapp," the man replied, a pensive expression coming over his face. "Why does your name sound so familiar..." Alfred grimaced. It wasn't exactly a secret that he was the embodiment of the nation (after all, he went on television and radio shows all the time), but it was always awkward when people realized who exactly he was. "Oh my god!" Joel suddenly exclaimed. "You're _America!_ It's an honor to meet you, sir!"

"You don't need to call me sir," Alfred replied, embarrassed. "Just Alfred is fine."

"I can't believe that I got to meet the country!" Joel cried happily. "I never thought that anything like this would happen when I decided to come today!"

"No, I should be the one thanking you," Alfred replied. "I really appreciate being about to hear what the citizens have to say. It was nice to meet you, Joel."

To Be Continued

Author's Comments:

On 9.12.2009, and the tea party people were everywhere in D.C.. I met quite a few of them, and while I wish I could say that they were all like Joel here, I honestly can't.

I put Joel's segment first for a reason. He represents the calm, rational part of the tea partiers that you don't really see on television. They have legitimate concerns, and do not feel that the Democrats nor the Republicans are representing them well enough, so they took to this movement to express their discontent. They don't get much airtime, because people don't watch the news expecting to see sane, rational people, they watch the news expecting to see batshit insane lunatics! While some of the people I met were like Joel, others were some of the most nasty, badly-behaved, bigoted people I've met in my life.. Not all of them, mind you, but a few of them were real pieces of work. One particularly horrid woman caused a huge disturbance in the Metro station by holding up an escalator so she could yell at people about how Obama was anti-Christian. Now, stuff like this isn't too uncommon, but the worst part was that there were a lot of people who agreed with her, and that led to a huge pileup.

Please don't take this as hating on the entire tea party movement. Some of them were very nice people, and they're welcome to come back any time they want. But people like Crazy-Ass Metro Lady, please, stay in your own home town, OK? Some of us actually kind of need to live our lives and don't need more bonkerosity than we already get.

-Kaboom


	13. The Mad Tea Party, part 2

**Warning: This is probably the most potentially offensive chapter in this entire story. Contains rather unflattering depictions of the extreme religious right, Birthers, and people who do not think for themselves and blindly follow whatever charismatic person is speaking at the moment. Also, please read the comments at the end for some important clairifications. **

Chapter Thirteen: The Mad Tea Party, part 2

Alfred had a great time talking to Joel. The man seemed to have some very interesting ideas about what could help the American economy, and he was more than willing to share those ideas. Not to mention that he was just a pleasant person to talk to. He was funny, and was a great conversationalist.

But Alfred wanted to see the other sides of the movement, so after a while, he thanked the man and went on with his exploration of the crowds on the Mall. He didn't have to look very far before he found a loudmouthed person who he was pretty sure would be more than willing to explain their viewpoints.

"It's time we impeached the anti-Christian socialist that's occupying the White House!" a loud woman in a faded pink tracksuit was yelling at a small group of people who had gathered to listen to her. "If we do nothing, he will continue to chip away at the Judeo-Christian moral structure of our society! If this demonically inspired health-care bill passes, we'll have abortion on demand up into the fourth trimester! The elderly will be put to death for no other crime than being elderly!" The people listening to her all made noises of disgust. "Are we going to allow this to happen?"

"NO!" the group roared.

"If things continue at this rate and the health-care bill passes, our Dear Leader will use our rise in tax dollars to make it illegal for anyone to attend a true church! Bible-believing Christians will be this century's targets and scapegoats! Our evil government will not stop until it has implemented Sharia law! Tell me, ladies, do you want to wear the burqa?"

"NO!"

"Damn right you don't! Do you want to be humiliated and subjugated because of our president's views? No, of course you don't! You're going to ask me, what can we do? Well, I'll tell you one thing: our 'president-'" here, she said the term in a voice positively dripping with sarcasm- "won't show his real birth certificate! And I ask you- why do you think that is?"

"WE DON'T KNOW!" the group shouted in unison.

"I'll tell you why! It's because Dear Leader isn't a United States citizen and therefore is ineligible to lead this once great country! He has blinded most of the populace into believing his lies! Well, I'll tell you this: we can expose our lying Manchurian Candidate for who he really is or my name isn't Isabel Dayton!" With a deafening roar, the listeners cheered for a while, before eventually moving on. Once the area was relatively clear. The woman packed up some of her signs and then called out, "You! Blondie! Get over here!" Alfred tentatively approached.

"Yes?" he asked.

"I saw you watching me," the woman said. "So who sent you? The FBI? Secret Service? CIA? Obama's Black Ops team?"

"What-?" Alfred asked, really not comprehending.

"Don't play dumb," the tracksuited woman snapped. "I saw you watching me give my speech! You had this disgusted look on your scrawny little face. That's how I know you're a Democrat plant! You fucking liberal bastard, you're here to terrorize real Americans!"

"Lady, please," Alfred retorted, getting angry now. "I'm no spy, and if I was, do you really think I would be so obvious about it? I was just interested in your speech."

"In that case," Isabel replied, "why didn't you say so? So what do you want to know?" Alfred decided to start with an easy question.

"What makes you think that women will have to wear burqas if the health-care reform bill passes? I don't see how they connect, and if I know the American people, and I'm pretty sure that I do, they would never stand for something like that." Isabel laughed bitterly.

"You'd think so, wouldn't you? But if our illegal president has his way, American values will be destroyed! We're going to turn into Ameristan!"

"Don't you think you're taking this too far?" Alfred asked. "The Supreme Court already looked into the whole eligibility thing, and President Obama is a natural-born citizen. He is eligible to be president." This was the wrong thing to say.

"DON'T SAY THAT NAME!" Isabel screeched, hopping about like a rabbit on speed. "Don't say the name of that person's name! You defile the air of this proud nation's capital city!"

"OK, OK, sorry," Alfred sai, backing up slowly. Good god, he hadn't run into an activist that bonkers since that anti-Vietnam War protester had hit him with his protest sign back in the 1960s. But the backing-up wasn't acceptable by the woman's standards. No, she wanted to make sure that she got the last word in.

"Why are you backing up?"she demanded to know, getting right up in Alfred's face. "Can you not handle the truth when it's staring you in the face? Do you not like having your liberal agenda revealed right in front of your eyes? Well, I'll tell you something, mister- you'd better get used to it because we're not going to let scum like you ruin our once proud country by destroying our morals and closing down our churches! We won't let you get away with this!"

"Yeah, OK," Alfred said by way of response. Seriously, what are you supposed to say to something like that, anyway? Regarding the crazy ones, there wasn't a whole lot that you could say to change their minds. "Whatever, lady. Good luck with your whole mission thing." The woman smiled. It was rather creepy.

"Thank you, I guess, even though it doesn't mean very much coming from a lying liberal like yourself," she said, her voice full of false cheeriness.

* * *

Alfred meandered around the national mall for a while longer, taking in the sights and sounds. He felt caught between an insane urge to laugh like a maniac and break down into despair, much like he had felt when he had seen the town-hall meeting brawl. What would have in the past consisted of civilized, proper debate was now replaced by paranoid conspiracy theories and thinly veiled racist rhetoric. There were several things about this whole situation that unsettled him.

Sure, plenty of the attendees were like Joel Snapp- simply regular, concerned folks who weren't sure if the country was going in the right direction and were worried about their jobs. But many others were like Isabel Dayton- loud, screeching paranoiacs who preached a diluted call to violence. If enough of those types found willing receptors for their messages of rage, Alfred worried that the results could have repercussions that no one intended.

After all, it had been rhetoric of this sort that had led up to every major crisis in American history, most notably (and disturbingly for this time), the Civil War.

To Be Continued

Really Long Author's Comments:

This chapter was extremely difficult to write. I wanted to get into some of the crazy "OBAMA IS THE ANTICHRIST!1!1!ELEVENTY!1" that seems to permeate some of the discussion, but I also didn't want to turn this into a rant against the hyper-conservative religious right, because I _know _that would end badly. And I know I failed epically here, but I also wanted to show the complete lunacy of some of those types. If you think I'm making this up, I can give you some links to completely insane people who truly believe that Obama wants to destroy the moral foundation and put all Christians in internment camps so that he can set up Sharia law. I'm not putting the links up here because they are NSFW (and really not safe for your sanity. Even if you don't like Obama some of them might drive you to despair, or rage, or despair-rage), but if you're really curious, ask in a review and I'll send them to you in a reply.

This part is second because I really wanted to show the saner side of the tea party first. Like I said in the last chapter, Joel is supposed to be representative of the kind of people who are worried about their jobs, and are afraid that higher taxes might hurt their livelihoods. Isabel is the other, darker side of the movement, who is convinced that the president wants to take away their religious freedoms, screw them over in every way possible, and legalize infanticide (I have actually heard some people saying that). So... yeah. Not much else to say on that subject, other than that this is _in no way an attack on the tea party movement as a whole._ If you're going to take it as an attack on something, take it as an attack on fear-mongering, paranoid, ignorant people whose only mission is scare the shit out of people and drive them to action.

Also, this has nothing to do with the chapter, but it's important all the same. The best way for me to describe the rest of this summer is _extremely busy_. I was ill for two weeks, which really screwed up my schedule, and I will be traveling a lot during the rest of this summer, culminating with a move in mid-August. I am going to do my best to update at least once more in July, but once August hits, I'm going to have very sporadic Internet access until I'm completely settled. I will do my best to update whenever possible, but don't be surprised if there are no updates for the month of August, since I may or may not have Internet access for 95% of that month. However, I will work on drafting things so as soon as I have reliable access again I can make up for lost time. :)

-Kaboom


	14. Let's Go World Cup!

**Warnings: Nothing special this time, but be aware that this chapter is a lot sillier than the others, and focuses a lot less on political issues and is more about international cooperation… and vuvuzelas. Plus there are some original characters, none of whom have a really major part. **

**Chapter Fourteen: Let's Go World Cup! **

**_Summer 2010 _**

"Ah! Alfred!" Arthur called, seeing his former colony step off the plane in Johannesburg, South Africa. The World Cup would be starting in a few days, and most of the countries had shown up with their teams for "moral support." Even Im Hyun Soo, Yong Soo's notoriously reclusive and uncooperative brother had arrived with the North Korean team. "There you are! We were wondering if you were actually going to come or not… is the idea of playing _real_ football too much for you?" There were some snickers from some of the other nations, while others tried to keep calm.

"Arthur, the World Cup is about teamwork and national pride, not being an asshole," South Africa said nervously, wanting to avoid ugly confrontation before the games actually began.

"You can't blame me, Nikolaas," Arthur replied flippantly. "He doesn't even call football football, he calls it soccer! I was just making an observation that it was surprising for him to be here… I thought for sure he would have chickened out and stayed at home in D.C!"

"Shut the hell up," Alfred snapped angrily. "We're going to win this thing!"

"Good luck with that," Kiku interrupted. "I'll be taking home the World Cup."

"In your dreams!" The Netherlands laughed. "We'll take it home!"

"You really think so, huh? That's funny! My _fútbol _team will dominate this competition!" Mexico yelled, jumping up on the sofa she had been sitting on and pumping her fist in the air.

"You're funny, Beatriz," Nigeria replied, pretending to study her nails intensely. "Obviously my country is going to win!"

"No, I think that I will," Spain said pleasantly from the chair he was seated in. It seemed that the rivalry between the nations was about to get a lot more complicated from that point on… so Nikolaas took advantage of the break in conversation to jump to his feet.

"American team, why don't you go through there?" he suggested, pointing to a door in the corner of the room. "Your rooms are in that wing. Mr. Jones, you'll be staying on the tenth floor with all of the other nations. You're next to Abagebe. Would you be willing to show him where the room is?" Nigeria got off of the chair she had been sitting on and offered Alfred a rather alarming smile.

"I would be more than happy to, Nikolaas," she said, before grabbing Alfred by the hand and dragging him off towards the elevators, much to the amusement of the other countries, some of who made obnoxious wolf-whistles and catcalls. Alfred responded by flipping them all the bird. Abagebe rolled her eyes, whacked Alfred on the arm, and pushed the "up" button on the elevator.

"Ignore them," she said once they were in the elevator in relative privacy. "They're all just excited and they're all convinced they're going to win. They already gave Hyun Soo the same treatment earlier." Alfred blinked.

"North Korea? Weren't they afraid he'd nuke them?"

"No," Nigeria replied. "He's actually on his best behavior… he hasn't threatened anyone with nukes at all this whole day, although he did dump a bottle of Gatorade on his brother." Alfred snickered at that.

"Sounds like him… did Yong Soo do anything to deserve it?"

"Well, he was claiming that he'd invented football…"

Eventually, Alfred was safely in his hotel room, enjoying the view. South Africa was a really pretty country, it was a shame he'd be so busy with soccer related duties that he couldn't see the sights a bit more. But no, he was going to attend his team's practices and cheer them on, and then he'd definitely be at every game his people were playing in, so he could help provide the support they needed. If only he knew what "support" at the World Cup meant…

_The First Game _

"You'll want this," Nikolaas said to Alfred, holding out a strangely shaped, long plastic horn. Alfred eyed it suspiciously.

"What is it?" he asked.

"A vuvuzela," South Africa replied cryptically. "You'll see what it's for." He led Alfred into the stadium, and almost immediately, the American man's ears were assaulted by what seemed like a billion angry bees buzzing around in his head. Instinctively, he clasped his hands over his ears.

"What the hell is that?" he yelled, struggling to make himself heard.

"VUVUZELAS!" Nikolaas hollered in reply. "Aren't they great?"

"They're really loud! How do your players hear themselves think?" Alfred asked. South Africa looked at him in confusion.

"They're an important part of our football-supporting culture! Our players love to hear them, because it means that the fans care!" Alfred shrugged. It was weird, and kind of annoying, but hey, if it was to support the teams so that they'd be motivated to win, then who was he to complain? Especially if it helped America!

_England-US Match _

"Are you ready for me to kick your ass in _soccer?"_ Alfred taunted Arthur, laughing when he saw the other nation's face purple. "America is going to show the world how awesome we are at everything, including soccer!"

"You wish," Arthur sneered. "My country has been playing _football_ since before you even knew what that black-and-white ball was even for! We're going to win this."

"Good luck with that," Alfred laughed, leaving a very irritated England behind as he went to his seat in the stands, wincing as an overzealous fan blasted the vuvuzela right in his ear. And the match began.

It seemed to drag on and on, Alfred fought. His players fought hard, but the British team was just as good. And every time America got close to making a goal, they blocked it. But Alfred was proud to say that the reverse was true- every time the British got close to making a goal, they beat them back. It reminded him a bit of the Revolutionary War, the way his blood got so fired up. And he didn't even _like_ soccer. It was a little disturbing to him, to be honest…

Inevitably, however, someone scored. And then the other team scored too. No matter how hard Alfred hoped for the American team to get a second score, though, it just didn't happen. The game went into overtime, and the score stayed frustratingly tied at 1-1. Finally, the officials declared that the game was a tie, and that no one won.

"Ha! Who sucks at soccer now?" Alfred laughed, meeting up with England after the game. "I totally owned you!"

"You idiot, we tied," Arthur sighed wearily. "But I suppose… I suppose you're not as bad at football as I originally said." Alfred smiled at him, no hard feelings at all.

"Do you want to play some one-on-one soccer later? You know, see if we can actually break the tie this time?"

To Be Continued

Author's Comments:

OK, OK, it's not particularly political. But I wanted to do a World Cup chapter, because even though the World Cup ended already, it was a major part of life, at least around here, for the month it was going on. One of the people I used to work with is a huge soccer fan, and we all went out to a restaurant where they had 50 flat-screen, hi-def televisions so we could watch the games. It was a lot of fun, and I'm even not really a soccer/football fan. Also, sorry if the formatting is wonky. I just got Microsoft Office 2010 as a present, and I've used open-source word processing for years, which is a lot simpler. I used to work in IT and I'm even going to university for computer science in the fall, and I can't even figure out Microsoft Word 2010. I'm an embarrassment.

South Africa is named Nikolaas because I know a South African guy named Nikolaas. If by some chance he happens to read this, cheers, man, I named South Africa after you because you're awesome. :)

Even so, I don't like this chapter, and I can't put my finger on why. It just seems kind of stilted to me, I guess. But I've gone over it several times and I just can't find where the problem is, so after a few minor edits I'm posting it as-is. Don't worry, though, the next chapter will be back to the political issues. However, I do want to forewarn everyone: on August 2nd, I'm going to the beach. Directly from the beach, I will be moving. As such, I may or may not have Internet access, and when I do it's unlikely that it will be high-quality. I'll probably be accessing from Internet cafés until late August/early September, so it's likely that this will be the last new chapter for this story until September. If I can I definitely will update before then, but at the current moment it's looking rather unlikely.

Anyway, thank you all for reading, and I'll see you in September!

-Kaboom


	15. NOM NOM NOM

**Warning: Today I'm not going to beat around the bush- this chapter deals with the recent overturning of Proposition 8. As such., it depicts certain groups who supported the ballot measure in a rather unflattering light. So if you think that this chapter might upset you, I highly recommend that you skip this one. **

Chapter Fifteen: NOM NOM NOM

The minute he saw the papers, Alfred resisted the urge to head-desk. Proposition 8, the California ballot measure that had passed on Election Day, 2008, had been overturned. Not that Alfred thought that gays should be denied the right to marry- as long as someone wasn't trying to marry an underage person, Alfred honestly didn't really care who married who- but he knew that the fact that a judge had overturned the proposition meant that life was about to get even more hectic than normal. He'd be getting all kinds of angry phone calls and emails from opponents to gay marriage, pundits would up their harassment level to try to get him to go on the shows, and then the special interest groups would _not leave him alone._

One of the most vocal was the National Organization for Marriage, or NOM, as it was more commonly known. NOM was a group dedicated to "protecting traditional marriage," but all it really seemed to do was make a fool out of itself. First had come their disastrous "Two Million For Marriage" campaign, which they oh-so-intelligently abbreviated 2m4m. As most people who had access to the Internet knew, 2m4m was a term used by two men looking for a third sexual partner. And never mind the name of the organization itself- Alfred nearly fell out of his chair laughing the first time he'd heard it. After all, who in their right mind names their organization after the sound LOLcats make when eating? NOM NOM NOM indeed.

But despite their more amusing naming failures, NOM had a darker side, one that Alfred did not appreciate. He already had enough trouble with domestic terrorist groups... not that NOM itself was a terrorist group, but some of the ideals that its supporters and members espoused were deeply troubling. One man at a rally held a sign that brought back unpleasant memories of the time before civil rights- featuring two nooses and a quote from Leviticus saying that all gays should be put to death. Another woman threatened that she would like to blow up a school set up especially so that gay teenagers could attend classes without fearing for their safety.

About half an hour after Justice Vaughn Walker handed down his decision, Alfred's cell phone rang. He answered it without looking at the display, expecting it to be Arnold Schwarzenegger, who would probably call Alfred to apologize for all the trouble the case had caused, as well as to share the news that, in his opinion, the right thing had been done. "This is Alfred Jones," he said, expecting to hear the Governator's distinctive voice on the other end. Instead, he heard a strangely familiar, shrill, female voice nearly blow out his eardrums.

"MR. JONES!" the woman yelled into her handset. "WHAT DO YOU INTEND TO DO ABOUT THIS RULING? YOU KNOW THE JUDGE WAS GAY, RIGHT? HOW COME HE WAS ALLOWED TO RULE ON A CASE THAT WAS SO OBVIOUSLY CLOSE TO HIS HEART? HOW COULD HE RULE OBJECTIVELY?"

"I don't know who you are," Alfred said, his voice immediately going into his "deadly calm" mode, "but you have thirty seconds to tell me who you are or I'm going to have the Secret Service trace your call."

"Sorry, Mr. Jones," the woman replied, calmer now. "My name is Carrie Prejean, and I'm calling on behalf of the National Organization for Marriage regarding the ruling in California earlier today." Ah. Alfred knew who she was now.

"You're that disgraced beauty queen, right?" he asked. "The one with the sex tape?"

"That's neither here nor there," Prejean replied, her tone icy. "You can't tell me that you're not outraged by this, Mr. Jones! Do you want to die! If we allow marriage to be degraded, society will break down! If society breaks down, won't you die?" Alfred thought about Gilbert Bielschmidt, formerly known as Prussia. He hadn't been a country in years but was still wreaking havoc wherever he went. Last time he checked, Gibert wasn't dead (and the last time he'd checked was two days ago when Gilbert thought it would be entertaining to fax several important people in the government Xeroxes of his ass).

"No, I won't die if marriage is adapted," Alfred replied. "Even if the United States ceases to be a nation, I won't die. Ms. Prejean, I'm rather busy, can you please state your business quickly? I'm due in a meeting about the recession in fifteen minutes." And that wasn't a lie, well, not totally. The meeting wasn't for another hour and fifteen minutes, but a small omission wouldn't hurt anyone. He felt like his brain was melting every moment he was on the phone with this woman. Carrie Prejean cleared her throat, and then began.

"We at NOM hope that you'll stand up for traditional marriage and show that America is still the same moral nation that it was before," she explained. Alfred felt his eye twitch. Moral nation? While he'd like to think of himself as a relatively moral person, he really did not have the authority to declare what was moral and what was not. "Won't you condemn this obviously activist judge's ruling?"

"Ms. Prejean, I don't know who told you to call me, but I really have no authority to do so. I'm not a judge. I don't make the laws. I don't really have anything to do with public policy. I am also reluctant to do anything that takes rights away from my citizens. Believe it or not, but gays and lesbians can be Americans too. If you wish to complain to someone, focus on someone a little closer to home. Now I really do not have time to continue this conversation, but if you wish to contact me again, you may send me an email at afjones(at)whitehouse(dot)gov. Good day to you." And without waiting for a reply, he hung up the phone.

Ugh. And his run-in with Prejean was only the beginning. Angry emails flooded his inbox (but nothing from Ms. Prejean, which he felt to be very telling). Several religious groups demanded that he take it up with Arnold Schwarzenegger (what exactly Schwarzenegger would be able to do about it was anyone's guess), and others warning him that he'd be sent to hell for approving of gay marriage. Someone else sent him a message warning him that because of this, the United States was well on its way to allowing marriage between children and children, children and adults, people and animals, hell, even people and objects. One person sent an email demanding that because of the Proposition 8 case being decided the way it was, that he be able to marry his cat, Mr. Fluffles. One woman sent him a message demanding that he talk to the president and get the ruling overturned or she was going to divorce her husband, because obviously there was no meaning in the institution of marriage anymore.

But, other messages were positive. One couple sent a message where the two of them were trying to send a big bouquet of flowers to both Vaughn Walker and Alfred, because they were so proud of their country. Schwarzenegger called, telling Alfred that this was a great ruling, and that he was so proud to be the governor of California on that day. Pelosi called, actually meaning to call Schwarzenegger but called Alfred by mistake. But she still took the time to ramble a bit about how this was a huge victory for civil rights, and how it was great.

But Alfred knew that no matter how much people bitched or were thrilled with the ruling, he knew that the fight was far from over. Honestly, he wouldn't be surprised if the case ended up in the Supreme Court. And even if the courts ruled the same way that this case had been decided, he had a feeling it would be a lot longer before people accepted the ruling. It was like that with every controversial issue in history. The end of slavery, women's right to vote, desegregation of schools, integration of the military, letting women into the military... the list went on and on. Hell, even the Constitution itself was a big contentious issue in its time. Eventually, though, most people had eventually accepted it.

He just hoped that people would calm down by the time the case reached the higher courts. Riled-up citizens regarding an issue like this were volatile, especially when things like morals and values were added to the mix. Hopefully people would be reasonable, no matter what their views were, but he doubted it.

To Be Continued

Author's Comments:

So I'm on vacation, and while everyone else is on the beach, I'm typing this up. I really like the beach, but it's way too bright outside, and my sunglasses broke. (I have very sensitive eyes, and it's extremely painful in the sunlight). Of course, I don't have any car keys with me, so I can't even make it to one of the over 9000 places that sell beach stuff...

Anyway. NOM. Proposition 8. Carrie Prejean. Ah, NOM. If you're going to name your organization something, don't name it after the sound LOLCats make when they eat. Every time I see their name in the newspaper, I immediately think NOM NOM NOM. And Carrie Prejean. I'm actually not sure if she's still with NOM, but I thought I'd put her in here, especially because I can totally hear her squeeky little voice yelling about this on behalf of her organization.

Oh, by the way, NOM is completely reprehensible: http:/ thinkprogress .org/ 2010/07/27/ nom-marriage-sign/ (remove the spaces). This guy was a NOM activist. Oh, and be warned, it might make you rage.

… I'm sure that I had something else to add, but for the life of me I can't remember what it was.

-Kaboom


	16. It Came From Kansas!

**Warning: This chapter is not meant to diss Kansas. It's just focusing on the fact that a lot of unsavoury political situations have arisen there in recent memory. I was born in Kansas and have nothing against the state. It's a nice state, you should go there if you get the chance, although maybe not, because there's really not a whole hell of a lot there. Also, be aware that this chapter deals with the virulent Westboro Baptist Church, the anti-gay, anti-military, anti-everything other than themselves church, so this chapter contains some rather less-than-savory language, as well as homophobic slurs. Also general swear words, but you all should know that by now... **

Chapter Sixteen: It Came From Kansas!

If you were ever to ask Alfred F. Jones what his favorite state was, he wouldn't tell you. He'd say something like, "Oh, I like all the states the same," or "I can't have a favorite state, they're all my favorites!" But if you were to ask him which state caused the most trouble, depending on what had happened recently, he might say Kansas. In the past several years, there had been some of the most disturbing threats to national security spawned from Kansas.

It had started several years ago when Alfred had gone to a funeral for a soldier killed in Afghanistan. It had seemed the right thing to do at the time. After all, funerals were a time for those in mourning to send off their dead with a special, meaningful ceremony. And as America itself, Alfred felt as though he had a duty to comfort the families of those killed in his name. This was something he'd done since the Revolution- while it was impossible for him to attend the funeral of every soldier who had died fighting for his or her country, Alfred always sent a hand-written letter of condolences and gone to every funeral he possibly could.

But that day, when he arrived at the funeral for that young man, the crowd outside of the church was even more distraught than usual. And upon further inspection, it wasn't difficult to figure out why. There was a gaggle of... well, he wasn't really sure _what_ to call them. Protesters? Picketers? Assholes? Personally, Alfred felt that the last one described them the best. After all, who other than a gigantic asshole would picket the funeral of an American serviceman with signs saying things like "God hates fags" and "Thank God for dead soldiers."

"What's going on here?" he asked an attendee, and the woman sniffed, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.

"I have no idea," she whispered. "All of a sudden these people jumped out of a car and started chanting at us and waving these signs around... can't they let us bury my brother in peace? What did he ever do to deserve this?"

"America is doomed because of her acceptance of the filthy fag lifestyle!" an old man in a cowboy hat was yelling into a megaphone. "And every time a soldier dies, God laughs! God hates you all, and you're all going to hell!"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" a young man in a uniform yelled. An older woman agreed, and added,

"Fuck off and let me bury my grandson in peace! I don't know what kind of god you believe in, but the God I woship doesn't hate anyone!" A group of several individuals attending the funeral started yelling in agreement.

"We will not!" a woman from the group yelled. "God hates America, and we're doing the Lord's work!"

OK, that was it. Alfred wasn't about to sit back and watch as some assholes ruined the funeral for someone who had died defending _him._ So he marched right up to the group and demanded to know who they were and where they got off interrupting a funeral.

"We are the Westboro Baptist Church!" one of the women yelled right back in his face. "And we know that America is doomed because of her acceptance of the fag lifestyle! We allow filthy animals to corrupt our young and turn them away from things of God! God hates every last one of you, and you're all going to burn in hell!"

"So, what makes you think America is a 'her?'" Alfred asked casually. "Because I have it on good authority that America is a guy. And I really don't think he cares whether or not your god hates him or not, because I think he has better things to do than be upset because of people like you. You don't like America? Then feel free to get out. Maybe _you'd_ like to go take the deceased's place in Afghanistan?" he suggested, completely serious. The Taliban had just been overthrown, and Afghanistan wouldn't be too pleased to see yet another group of people claiming to speak for God try to take over his country again... and Hafiz wasn't really someone you wanted to fuck with, especially now. He was working so hard to keep another Taliban-like group from taking over again... but the church just looked at him blankly.

"Well, I guess it does make sense that America would be a he," one of them said. "I'm sure he likes the filthy acts that the fags perform on each other. And why would we go to Afghanistan? God placed us where he needs us to be. The people of America need to hear this message! Although it's unlikely that anyone will repent and turn from their ways, we can at least spread the message!" Alfred rolled his eyes.

"Fine, whatever, but I'm telling you that one of these days you're going to protest the wrong funeral, and then you're going to end up in a whole lot of shit." He wasn't upset, per se, more like disgusted than anything else, and as such, he wasn't even trying to censor himself. Besides, it wasn't as though these... people... knew that he was America anyway. He could cuss them out all he wanted, and most of the American wouldn't fault him for it.

Eventually, they left, and Alfred was happy to see them go, hoping that this would be the last they'd see of them. Unfortunately, no, they continued to show up and protest the funerals of just about anyone they could see. Famous people, people killed in action in Iraq or Afghanistan, politicians... anyone they could, all with their message of hate.

Although Alfred had to admit, their rage of "AMERICA IS GOING TO HELL!" amused him, since as far as he knew, he couldn't die, so even if there was a hell or a heaven, he wouldn't be going to either anytime soon.

To Be Continued

Author's Comments :

So I'm finally moved in to my new home until next May. I'm having a little difficulty adjusting (I've never lived with another random person before), and I miss D.C. like crazy. It's so weird.. where my university is, there's no freaking traffic. I can walk across the middle of the street without worrying I'm going to get run over by a psychotic commuter or a crazy taxi. Probably the thing I miss the most? Decent takeout. There's absolutely _nothing_ within walking distance from the university except for an icecream place. At least the university food doesn't suck, though.

Anyway! On to discussing the chapter. The Westboro Baptist Church, for those of you who don't know, are the "God Hates Fags" church. They protest at all kinds of things, most notably funerals of deceased military personnel, although they've protested high schools and plays and all sorts of things. They like to rant about how everyone other than them sucks and is going to hell. They piss me off, but they also piss just about everyone else off. There's the Patriot Guard, that goes to funerals they go to protest and drown out their chants with the roar of their motorcycles.

The reason I chose to do this particular subject as a chapter is because I found a very interesting article about the Phelps clan written by one of the estranged children. You can read it at http: / www. blank .org/addict (remove spaces). Be warned: it's very long, very disturbing, and NSFW.

=Kaboom


	17. Of Mosques and Men

**Warning: This chapter deals with a very hot-button issue. Namely, the Islamic community center proposed to be built in Manhattan, (erroneously) known as the Ground Zero Mosque. There is a lot of misinformation about this structure that is being perpetuated by just about every news outlet. It is my hope that this chapter can help to clear up these misconceptions. I don't think there's anything particularly offensive in this chapter, but of course, as soon as I say that, I'm going to piss someone off. So just to let you know, there are some 9-11 references. If there's one part of this chapter I'd be wary of, it's the author's comments. Those are probably a great deal more incendiary than the chapter itself... :P **

Chapter Seventeen: Of Mosques and Men

"We intend for this center to be a place where all people can come and enjoy themselves and to learn about cultures," the imam said. "We intend for it to be like a YMCA." Alfred nodded.

"So a community center. Personally, I think that is a great idea. I've read up on your organization, Imam Faisal, and I have to say that it's goals are extremely noble. This world needs more peace and tolerance. And a place like a YMCA is one of the best ways to go about doing that."

"You're not bothered by where it's located?" the imam asked, skeptical. Given the opposition from the general public towards the community center, he had been expecting America himself to be a lot more diametrically opposed to the Cordoba Initiative. Alfred sighed, folding his hands over his arms and fixing the imam with a serious glance.

"One of the principles that is the most important to me is the right for every single American to have the freedom to practice whatever religion or lack of religion they wish. It would be incredibly hypocritical of me to tell that you can't build your community center. Although I will tell you this- I would be uncomfortable with any kind of house of worship being on Ground Zero, whether or not it is Christian, Jewish, Muslim, or Hindu, or anything else. Americans of all faiths died on that day, and to me it seems insulting to their memories to build any kind of church or temple there. But, you don't need to worry. You are building a community center blocks away from Ground Zero. Am I right in understanding that it is not actually on the location of the former World Trade Center?" Imam Faisal nodded.

"Right, it's several blocks away."

"Well then, you have my approval. I'm looking forward to seeing it finished," Alfred said with a smile. "I love the YMCA, and I fully expect you to outdo the nicest YMCA in the country." The imam smiled back, and nodded.

"We look forward to showing you around the completed center, Mr. Jones."

* * *

Of course, it didn't take long for the news that Alfred supported the "Ground Zero Mosque" to leak out into the mainstream media. And of course, the backlash was present.

"AMERICANS DIED THAT DAY, AND AMERICA HIMSELF SUPPORTS THE VICTORY MOSQUE! OUR COUNTRY HAS BETRAYED US!" a particularly shrill blogger ranted.

"Now, I'm not saying that Alfred Jones is un-American," Sarah Palin said in a speech to her supporters, "After all, how can America himself be un-American? But I do question whether or not his heart is in the right place? If he's trying to win voters, then he's going about it the wrong way." Alfred had been watching the speech with Joe Biden, Nancy Pelosi, and President Obama, and when she had said that, he burst out laughing. There was so much wrong with that statement, but the funniest thing to him was that she accused him of pandering to voters. He wasn't elected! Why would he waste time trying to pander to voters when they wouldn't be able to vote for him in the first place?

"I just don't think he's ever been to New York in the past several years. If he had, he would know how much of a problem this is. New Yorkers don't want a mosque on Ground Zero," some random person grabbed off the street by Fox News said into the camera.

And it was starting to get ridiculous, in Alfred's eyes. The "mosque" was a community center that happened to have a room for prayer in it, just like a YMCA or JCC. And one thing that irritated him the most was the way that certain people tried to paint the center as a "victory" mosque, one where the Muslims would build it to show their dominance over the United States. They seemed to have forgotten that Americans of all religious backgrounds had died in the attacks, and yes, that included Muslims.

And it just kept getting more and more out of control. If a politician came out in support of the Cordoba Initiative to build the center where they wanted to, it was tantamount to political suicide. The elections hadn't happened yet, but Alfred had a horrible sinking feeling that those politicians would be defeated in the upcoming elections. All because of the misinformation being spread regarding the community center.

No one seemed to take into account that the First Amendment guaranteed free exercise of religion. Not just free exercise of religion for Christians and Jews, as some people seemed to understand it. But then again, centuries of experience told him that there would always be people who took that part of the Constitution that way. But it was also part of his duty to protect the rights of all his citizens, no matter what their faith was. Even Muslims. So it was then that he decided that a country's gotta do what a country's gotta do.

"I'd like to have a press conference," Alfred told Obama one day, when he'd had enough of the "OMG!MOSQUE!" panic. Obama looked at him in surprise. Alfred rarely every held press conferences, It was his understanding that Alfred found them tedious and too complicated to try to discuss.

"Really?" he asked. Then, it dawned on him. "It's about the Cordoba House, right?"

"Yeah," Alfred replied. "I know I can't keep people from being prejudiced, but I can at least share information. I was watching that Keith Olbermann/Howard Dean thing the other night and I realized that _no one _has the right information. If people won't believe it fro,m the people in charge of the whole thing, I can at least do my best to impart it. If you won't believe your country, then you won't believe anything." Obama nodded slowly.

"If that's really what you want to do..." his voice trailed off. "I can set it up."

"Thank you,"

Three days later, Alfred shuffled his papers as he prepared to go on Keith Olbermann's show. He would do his best to stop the misinformation and impart to the public that, A: Cordoba House was like an Islamic version of a YMCA, not a mosque, and B: That it wasn't on Ground Zero. But it would be up to the people themselves to reach a conclusion on their own.

After all, there was only so much he could do himself.

To Be Continued

Really Long Author's Comments:

I'm not Muslim, but this whole "OMG A MOSQUE!" bullshit is starting to piss me off. Why can't people have a place to practice their religion? When I was moving to university, we went through all of these little tiny towns in the middle of nowhere, and there were more churches than gas stations, grocery stores, schools, and restaurants put together. If we can have churches out the kazoo, why can't we have an Islamic community center?

And I get the proximity to Ground Zero issue. I really do. I am rather uncomfortable with it myself. But I'd be equally uncomfortable with a church, synagogue, or temple going up there. Americans of every faith died that day, as I mentioned in the chapter, and it really does seem disrespectful to all of them to me if a single-faith issue went up there. But, as it's been demonstrated, the community center is going up in what used to be a JC Penny or Burlington Coat Factory or something like that. Unless that's a sacred department store, then I don't see a problem with it. And it's not like that this center is _only_ for Muslims. Anyone who wants to can use it.

As an agnostic libertarian, the idea of people's freedom of religion being stomped on because it's not the dominant religion in a country is deeply disturbing to me. And people really need to remember: Muslims are people too. Islamophobia is the coward's way out of blaming an entire group of people for the actions of a few. Some Christians blow up abortion clinics and attack gays, but no one blames all Christians for the actions of a few. Some Jews commit terrorist acts against Palestinians trapped in the Gaza Strip, but no one except for Neo-Nazis try to make it seem like Jews as a whole are responsible for this. Your average John Q. Muslim just wants to live his life like everyone else.

So in conclusion, it's a community center. It's a damn YMCA, only Muslim and minus the fun dance. And it's not on Ground Zero.

-Kaboom


	18. Beckapalooza, part 1

**Warning: I personally do not think that this chapter is very offensive, but if you hate Glenn Beck, then you might want to skip this chapter, because, well, it's pretty much about him. Actually, if I'm to be completely honest here, Beck's fans and haters alike might take issue with this chapter. Oh well. Don't say I didn't warn you... **

Chapter Eighteen: Beckapalooza, part 1

August 2010

"I cannot believe that bastard is actually doing this," Nancy Pelosi raged during the meeting with Alfred. "Honestly, Glenn Beck talking about restoring honor? Next thing you know we'll be hearing about Rush Limbaugh on a campaign to reinstate the Fairness Doctrine! I'll eat an entire plate of jalapeño peppers if he doesn't have some ulterior motive."

"Nancy..." Obama warned, while Joe Biden nearly fell off his chair laughing.

"It's a good thing you won't have to eat those jalapeños then!" he exclaimed. Alfred rolled his eyes. For people supposed to be in charge of running the country, they could act remarkably like a bunch of middle schoolers when it came to the opposition. Well, not so much Obama, but the other two, definitely.

"Glenn Beck is an American citizen too," Alfred said, wording his statement carefully. "He has just as much right to hold a rally in D.C. as the next person. And D.C. has been the site of many rallies in the past! I know, I went to most of them. You might not like it, but as long as they don't incite a riot, and they get the proper permits, he can hold a rally wherever he wants." Pelosi snorted.

"Yes, Alfred, I know there have been many rallies in Washington D.C. That's part of the problem. Glenn Beck is trying to co-opt Martin Luther King Jr's ideals. He's even said that it's time to 'reclaim the civil rights movement!'" Alfred froze. Glenn Beck was insane (he still hadn't quite forgiven him for the whole boxers or briefs thing a few months back that resulted in him getting spammed by underwear manufacturers), but he wouldn't seriously try to "reclaim the civil rights movement," would he? To many people alive in this day and age, they didn't remember the 1950s and 1960s. Either they had been small children or they hadn't been born yet. But Alfred remembered. He remembered it quite well. He remembered the events that led up to the nation having to _have_ a civil rights movement in the first place. Anyone trying to adapt that for their own twisted use was just... well, it didn't sit well with him.

"Wait, what?" he asked, hoping he'd misheard. Nancy Pelosi sighed.

"Glenn Beck thinks that Martin Luther King Jr. would be on his side in this, so he's decided to adapt the message to suit his own needs," she explained. Alfred sighed.

"Just great," he grumbled. "Doesn't he know that's only going to divide everyone even further? This is just what we don't need- more fighting and division."

"It's Glenn Beck, what do you expect?" Joe Biden replied. "The only thing 'fair and balanced' about that guy is how unfair and imbalanced his mind is!"

"Watch it, Joe," Obama warned, hoping his two friends wouldn't take it too far. "Alfred," he said, turning to the nation. "There is a very real possibility that Glenn Beck will want you to speak at the rally. While I cannot really control whether or not you oblige, I'd prefer that you don't, for the sake of consistency."

"Don't worry, sir," Alfred replied politely. "I won't do anything unbecoming of my position."

"I know you won't," Obama said. "That's why I hope you'll be extra careful."

* * *

Obama was right. Three days later, Alfred was trying to respond to some emails from a few immigration officials regarding what they should do with a woman who'd given birth while in their custody, when his cell phone rang. As had become a habit recently, he didn't even bother to check the display before answering it. "This is Alfred Jones."

"Alfred!" a very familiar voice called. "This is Glenn Beck! I have a favor to ask you."

"If this is about the underwear again, the answer is no," Alfred said dryly. "No, I do not want to model your new line of patriotic underwear, thank you very much."

"No, no, I gave up on that a while ago," Beck replied. "I'm sure you've heard of my Restoring Honor rally coming up on the 28th of August?"

"Yes..." Alfred answered, already knowing where this was going.

"It would mean a lot to me if you'd be one of our keynote speakers," Beck explained. "After all, if America endorses us, it will add so much credibility! And I'm sure you're on our side, as well, being the most patriotic American ever!" Alfred could practically hear the man beaming on the other end of the line, and sighed.

"I've explained this to you before, Mr. Beck. I cannot, in good conscience, appear to agree with one political ideology over another. It just causes more problems than it's worth. And if I go to your rally, I'm going to have to spend the next year going to the rally of every single person that asks me, because if I don't, then they will complain- 'But you went to Glenn Beck's! Why can't you come to ours?' I just don't have the time for that."

"I... I see," Beck replied, sounding rather disappointed.

Alfred was torn. Even though Beck could be one of the craziest people on television and radio, he still was an American, and he had a good number of people who followed his every word. He couldn't help but feel that he was letting a significant number of his citizens down. And he was going to be in D.C. for the next couple of weeks...

"I'll tell you what. I can't speak, and I'll need to lay low, but I'll _go_ to the rally, alright? I'll even come find you so you can see I kept my promise," he said. "That way, I'll still be there and I won't feel like I'm taking sides, alright?"

"That's a great idea!" Beck exclaimed enthusiastically. "I can't wait to see you there!"

To Be Continued

Author's Comments:

This story, as well as a few of my others, are now being hosted on An Archive of Our Own as well as here. Don't worry, nothing's disappearing from here, AaoOO is just somethiing I'm trying out for a while to see if I like it better. Lately, FFnet has been irritating me with its bugginess. Things don't want to upload, and when they do, the formatting's all whack. And a few people I know have had stuff just disappear right off the site (usually stuff that's M-rated), so I don't really know what's going on. The new account is more for insurance. I don't plan to leave anytime soon.

I'm sorry this chapter is so boring. It's more of a set-up for the next one, which will contain the actual rally. As for why Pelosi, Obama, Biden, and Alfred were sitting around discussing Glenn Beck? That came from a discussion I had with my dad, who thinks that the Democrats like to sit around and complain about the Republicans and vice-versa. He says he'd hate to go for drinks with members of either political party since it would just turn into complaining about the opposite party. Of course, I immediately imagined prominent politicians sitting around the White House like teenage girls at a sleepover and gossiping about the Republicans, which of course, made me laugh like a maniac and scared the hell out of everyone around me. Good times, good times.

-Kaboom


	19. Beckapalooza, part 2

**Warmimg: Potentially controversial depictions of both the right and left. **

Chapter Nineteen: Beckapalooza, part 2

The morning of August 28th dawned quicker than Alfred could have ever imagined. In the days leading up to the rally, someone had posted on a blog that there were places in D.C. that people should avoid, due to them being unsafe. Someone else decided it would be funny to make a satirical map depicting most of the nation's capital as unsafe for true patriots, with the exception of the National Mall. Normally, that would just be dismissed as a stupid joke, but some of the rally's attendees found it and thought it was real, causing a minor mass panic. Of course, someone on the left picked up on the whole thing and used it as ammo against the rally's attendees, saying that they were a bunch of paranoid racists, while the right fired back by saying that one could never be too careful, especially at a rally like this one, where they would be expressing an opinion that the mainstream left didn't like very much.

Eventually, it came down to Alfred having to go on television and tell everyone who was watching the broadcast that Washington D.C. was no less safe than any other city in the nation. Of course there would be things that one would be smart to watch out for. Any city has pickpockets, scammers, muggers, and rapists. You even get those in rural towns. And it probably wasn't a very good idea to go wandering around alone at night, but again, as Alfred explained it, it was a stupid idea to wander around alone in the dark no matter where you were. It was a damn stupid idea to do that in a secluded rural area, and it was a damn stupid idea to do it in the national capital. Thankfully, Alfred's words helped calm the controversy down, and there was no more panicking about the map.

On the actual 28th, Alfred went down to the National Mall to keep his promise to Glenn Beck. Obama warned him to be careful. "I don't want to sound paranoid, Alfred, but there are a lot of people out there who are extremely angry with the government. If they consider you to be part of the government you could be in danger. I think you should take some Secret Service with you." Alfred shook his head, though.

"I don't think that will be necessary, sir, with all due resepct. These are my people- and even if they do try something, they won't succeed. You may or may not know this because it's not something I make public, but back during the Civil War, my split personality shot me point-blank in the chest. I survived, obviously, and eventually he re-merged with me. So I'll be fine."

But when he got there, he started to think that maybe he should have taken Obama up on the offer of Secret Service agents. Some of the signs people had were damn disturbing. Someone had Photoshopped his head onto a picture of Jesus, with a bunch of AK-47s in the background. The caption read- "The American People have had it! And so has America! Prepare for REVOLUTION!" Alfred wasn't really sure how he felt about that one... he was glad that people had such faith in him, but he also found it incredibly disturbing that they expressed it that way. A rally counter-protester had another sign saying, "AMERICA WANTS GLENN BECK OUT NOW!" with another Photoshopped image of Alfred pointing towards a door.

"Can't they leave me out of it?" he complained under his breath. "I don't want anyone to get out, unless they're terrorists!"

Another group of people had signs saying things like "Drain the Swamp in November!" "Capitol Hill is _fired_ come November!" "Judgment Day is coming! Are you ready for it?" Another group had signs comparing Obama to Osama bin Laden. One woman had a very large, very gaudy sign reading "IN BECK WE TRUST."

But Alfred didn't waste very much time looking at the sign. All he had to do was find Glenn Beck, let him know that he'd shown up, and get out of there. Maybe he'd stop by a counter-protest on his way home to see what was going on there. It didn't take long before he found a staffer, who recognized him immediately. "Please, come this way, Mr. Jones. We've been expecting you," he said, leading America up a small flight of metal stairs. "Mr. Beck is waiting for you, just right through there." Alfred followed the instructions, and immediately, found himself on stage in front of several thousand people, who threw up a loud cheer when they saw him. Alfred looked around in confusion, only to see Glenn Beck smiling broadly at him.

"America always supports true patriots, folks! And to prove it, we have America himself here, and he'd like to say a few words to you!" The crowd went wild, and Alfred turned to Beck with a slight panicking tone.

"This wasn't part of the deal!" he exclaimed angrily. Glenn Beck shrugged.

"They're your people," he replied. "And they love you! You ought to give them what they want. And they obviously want you to say a few words." Alfred heaved a heavy sigh.

"You owe me for this," he muttered under his breath. Beck smiled.

"There's a $25,000 check in the mail for you right this minute."

Still a bit miffed, Alfred took his place up at the microphone. "Uh, hi," he said to start, instantly wanting to hit his head against the podium. Several thousand of his citizens were standing around out there, waiting for him to say something, and the best he could come up with was, "Uh, hi?" But it didn't seem to matter to this crowd. They all went nuts, screaming and cheering, and chanting at him, "ALFRED! ALFRED! ALFRED!"

"So, uh, I guess you guys are all here because you want to protect me?" Alfred tentatively asked, hoping that he wasn't making a mistake by saying that. The crowd roared. Someone in the front row shouted up,

"YOU'RE DAMN RIGHT, SIR1"

"Um, I appreciate the sentiment, but I don't think I'm in any danger," Alfred continued. "Trust me. I survived the Revolutionary War, the Civil War, WWII, McCarthyism, the Vietnam War, the Great Depression, 9-11, and Prohibition. I went face-to-face with Al Capone. Joseph McCarthy kicked me in the shins when I told him to stop accusing random people of being Communists unless he actually knew they were Communists. I survived eating England's food-" this prompted a laugh from the group gathered. "I survived the Cold War with only getting into a few relatively minor fights with Russia. And I spent a few years in the 1930s eating nothing but beans so that my people could have the food that I didn't eat. I think I can tell if I'm in any immediate danger. If we want to survive in this new political climate, we need to indeed restore honor to America. We need to act civil to each other, no matter what the political affiliations are. We need to work together to get legislation passed. If a Democrat introduced a bill that would help the widows and children of people killed in industrial accients, would you oppose it? I hope not. We are ALL Americans." There was silence for a few moments, and then someone cried out,

"Poor Alfred! They've brainwashed him!"

"DON'T WORRY, AMERICA!" someone else hollered. "WE'LL BRING YOU BACK TO THE JUDEO-CHRISTIAN PRINCIPLES THAT YOU WERE FOUNDED ON!"

"COME ON GUYS!" a different person yelled. "WE'VE GOT TO SAVE AMERICA!" Alfred watched in dismay ss the crowd started yelling and shouting that they were going to save the nation from the evil controlling government officials who'd brainwashed and reprogrammed him into... whatever it was he was. Alfred turned to Glenn Beck, who was standing there with a slight confused expression on his face.

"I thought you wanted to be returned to your original values?" Beck asked. Alfred sighed.

"Yes, I do. Read the Constitution. Equality for all, special privileges for none? The fact that I consider all Americans to be Americans, no matter what their political party is? You ought to know that by now, Glenn," he said, addressing the pundit by his given name. Beck nodded.

"I guess I just didn't realize exactly how bad it was," he said sadly. "The government really is controlling you like a puppet! Don't worry. We'll save you, Alfred, come 2012."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Alfred muttered under his breath. "The last thing I need is more division in the government."

To Be Continued

Author's Comments:

I really do not have a lot to say about this chapter, other than what I saw of that rally on television was that Lady Liberty herself could decide to get the heck out of the harbor in New York, go all the way down to D.C, get on stage there, and tell them that America and it's freedoms weren't going anywhere any time soon, and no one there would believe her.

-Kaboom


	20. Hands Off!

**Warning: And... once again there is someone else who gets to have their own disclaimer when they appear in the story. Joining the ranks of Sarah Palin and Joe Biden, please give a warm welcome to Christine O'Donnell, who gets her very own chapter! I've tried very hard to avoid turning this into yet another Tea Party chapter, but seeing as she's backed by them, it's going to be rather hard to do so. Also, minor sexual content and potentially controversial depictions of witchcraft (not so much on the last one but you never know who might get pissed...)**

Chapter Twenty: Hands Off!

To be perfectly honest with you, Alfred hadn't been following the primaries too closely this year. He was more concerned with fixing the economy and trying to mediate a dispute between Lady Gaga and John McCain (don't get him started on how that happened...), not to mention the fact that every day seemed to bring a new crisis. And even if he had been paying attention to the primaries, he probably wouldn't have been focusing on Delaware's Republican primary. The senator there, Mike Castle, had been around for ages, and Alfred rather liked the guy. Castle was a moderate Republican (Alfred always appreciated the moderates of either party, since they usually didn't spend their time running after him raging about something or other), and he and Alfred would occasionally get burgers together. There was almost no doubt in anyone's mind that he would win the primary, especially considering that his opponent, one Christine O'Donnell, was a perennially unqualified candidate that before now wouldn't have had a chance in hell of winning.

Or at least, that's what Alfred thought, until he got a very angry phone call one night, while he was up late playing _Call of Duty._ "This is Alfred," he'd answered, stifling a yawn.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS!" was what he got in return. "I _LOST! _To a woman who equates _masturbation_ with _adultery! And who thinks that there is some conspiracy to turn people into mice or whatever!" _

_ "_Uh... who is this?" Alfred asked. "And I can assure you that there is no conspiracy to turn people into mice, at least not one that's being funded by the United States government."

"_I_ know that! But Christine O'Donnell doesn't! And now she's been elected to replace me!" By this time, Alfred had figured out that it was Mike Castle on the other end. Before he was able to say anything to calm him down, however, Castle continued. "And after she said all that shit about me, she expects me to support her? Yeah, right! I wouldn't have become a politician if I was afraid of personal attacks, but she crossed the line! And now that she's beaten me after lying through her teeth she expects me to just lie down and take it? No! I'm not going to support her, even if she was the last Republican on Earth! And all she's done so far is just wrap up the election in a nice pretty red bow and handed it over to the Democrats!"

"Exactly what did this O'Donnell woman do that is so bad?" Alfred asked. "If the people voted for her, then she obviously can't be _that_ bad..." Castle let out a bitter laugh.

"I know that as a country you feel you should trust your citizens, but seriously, Alfred, if there was ever a time to stage an intervention it would be now. You might end up with another Civil War on your hands!"

"I highly doubt that would ever happen," Alfred said, sounding a lot more confident than he felt. Castle was right- he'd been very afraid of rioting or even civil war after the whole tea party explosion. It said something to him, that the last time there'd been a tea party he chucked a bunch of tea off a boat into Boston Harbor and helped bring about the Revolution. During the Civil War he'd been fighting with his own split personality that had managed to manifest itself outside of his body in its own form. Alfred didn't particularly care to repeat either of those experiences...

After hanging up with Castle, Alfred decided to look up this Christine O'Donnell. It could be that Castle was just pissed about losing and was taking it the wrong way. But Castle had never been the sort to do that before, why would he start now? A quick Google search showed that maybe Castle had been overreacting, but somehow, Alfred doubted it.

He'd found several videos from the late 1990s/early 2000s of O'Donnell on several television programs. In one, she compared, ahem, going on a date with Rosie Palms to cheating on one's partner. "You can't masturbate without lust," she had said very loudly into the camera. "Don't do it- it's like adultery!"

"We live in a sexually unhealthy society," another guest on the program had said and was about to continue before O'Donnell interrupted.

"And that's great. It's called modesty," she had retorted, leaving Alfred very bewildered. Modest was basically anyone who wasn't Francis Bonnefoy. Modest wasn't necessarily some crabby old lady buttoned up to her chin in foofy lace, which was what Alfred could just imagine O'Donnell dressed in, and had to stifle the giggles. After he got his minor bout of mirth under control, he changed to a different video.

In this one, O'Donnell was discussing the brief time she had spent as a witch, which apparently included sacrifices and midnight picnics on top of Satanic altars. Alfred didn't know a whole hell of a lot of about Satanism, or witchcraft for that matter, but he was pretty sure that neither of them involved picnics on bloody altars. To be honest, it kind of reminded him of the Satanic panic of the 1980s, where certain groups had claimed that if you played songs backwards it was revealed that they were homages to the devil and that roving bands of devil worshippers were stalking neighborhood streets and kidnapping cats, dogs, and children to kill to honor their dark lord. It ended up being a bunch of overblown hype, but it was true that vestiges of this panic still remained in the culture. Every Halloween it seemed to flare up again, and then die down until the next year, but this time, it seemed as though it was going to stay.

And then he found the mice video. Castle had been wrong on that point. O'Donnell didn't think that there was a conspiracy to turn people into mice, there was a conspiracy to turn mice into people, or at least give mice human brains. Alfred watched the video with growing horror. She _honestly_ believed this stuff? He could now see why some people were so scared of her- who wants a woman who thinks masturbation is the same as cheating and that mice are being engineered to have human brains making their laws? Apparently enough people in Delware did.

And somehow, Alfred found himself missing the good old days, back when mice were mice and people were people, and lonely teenagers engaging in a bit of self-love weren't cheating on their... imaginary partners?

His brain hurt.

To Be Continued

Really Long Author's Comments:

Ok, there's a couple reasons this chapter is out so late, some are more legitimate than others.

Firstly, I found out that a few weeks after I moved, a friend of mine passed away in an electrical accident. He was training to be an electrician. No one bothered to tell me until two weeks after the fact, citing reasons like "Well, we didn't want to upset you during your transition period." I think I was more upset that they kept it from me...

University has been kicking my ass as well. I took Art History thinking it would be easy, but good lord, it's one of the hardest classes I've ever taken. I can't tell what kind of paint something is just by looking at it! Paint is paint is paint! And how the hell are we supposed to be able to tell what the images were painted on by looking at it? It's not like the dude wrote "I painted this with oil paint on a canvas!" in the picture! And comp sci? I'm good with computers. I've been using computers since I was very small. The class was going well until accessing the school's server unleashed something rather nasty into my three-month-old laptop, completely killing it. Of course there's no decent computer supply store around here so I had to wait until someone from home could come down with Windows installation disks. I have switched back to Ubuntu Linux, which I used for several years before buying my first laptop, which I prefer to Windows, only with one problem. It's extremely difficult to do my computer science homework on it. Oh sure, I've got WINE running, but I don't particularly like to use it, which makes my life about a million times more difficult.

I also had a hard time coming up with a topic for this chapter. I _really_ didn't want to do another Tea Party chapter, I feel like that's been done to death, but that's pretty much all that ever shows up in the news anymore- the Tea Party did x, the Tea Party did y! I get it, the media has a love affair with the tea party, but I don't want to bore the readers by redoing the same topic all the time. But Christine O'Donnell had to have her own chapter. She just did. There's no way around it. And it's a stupid title for the chapter, I know. But it kind of fits... you know, with the whole "MASTURBATION IS BAD!" thing...

Finally, the least excusable excuse for my lateness this time was, well... I was watching television. Don't ask. It's a long story.

-Kaboom


	21. Poland's Problems

**_Extremely Important Warning:_ I feel like I'm playing catch with a live grenade these next few chapters... partially the reason this has taken so long to come out is because I couldn't decide whether or not to actually tackle this topic. I've been fighting with myself for some time whether or not to mention this issue, because, invariably, whenever it gets mentioned, someone is going to go after someone else with a rabid weasel and a baseball bat, no matter what side they're on. I am, of course, talking about reproductive issues such as abortion, stem-cell research, and in-vitro fertilization. If you are rabidly pro-life OR pro-choice I ask you to kindly click the back button on your browser to save yourself a potential rage-fest. If you ignore me and continue, and then switch into SUPER ANGRY CRAZY RAGE MODE, well, you kind of brought it on yourself. Be aware that this chapter is not particularly controversial, but the next several that will deal with this topic ARE. **

**Content warnings: Moderate mature content, possibly triggering material **

Chapter Twenty-One: Poland's Problem

Most countries did not have mothers. Egypt and Turkey did know their moms at one point, but as far as most countries were concerned, they did not technically have "parents" the way their citizens did. And female countries rarely ever had biological children of their own (again, with the exceptions being the aforementioned). Colonies, as far as most were concerned, didn't count, especially since they sort of just... happened. Colonies weren't technically "born," per se, they were more along the lines of "wham, bam, they showed up and now you have a little baby country under your care." There was no gestation period, no time in-utero, no stages of fetal development. In fact, no one was exactly 100% sure where little countries came from. Maybe a stork brought them, or they came out of a cabbage patch.

For better or for worse, though, countries' citizens do not come out of a cabbage patch, nor are they dropped off by a stork. Although if you ask most of the countries, they would tell you that they _wish_ that was how they got more citizens. It would cause a lot fewer problems, since no one who did the horizontal tango without wanting children would end up with them, resulting in a debate that was among the most contentious no matter where you went.

Once again, it was Nation's Night Out, and everyone was hanging out around the usual Glaswegian pub, drinking, snacking, talking, fighting. It was just a typical Friday for the nations who frequented the area. At least, it was until Poland slunk in, looking very different from his usual, hyper, cheery self.

"Are you feeling OK, vee?" Feliciano asked. "I hope you're not sick, Feliks. You ought to be careful, it's getting to be flu season!"

"That's not it..." the Polish man muttered under his breath. "What do you all do when one of your citizens dies from very preventable causes?"

"Oh, did something happen?" Hungary asked. "Don't feel bad about it. It happens all the time- our citizens can be really dumb sometimes. Drug overdoses, getting drunk and thinking they can fly, texting and driving, insulting the wrong person- the humans do some stupid things that sometimes end in their death. It's not like it's your fault, you can't possibly legislate against everything that they might do that is stupid."

"Yeah, we always have some idiot that thinks it's a good idea to go poke a dingo with a stick," Australia added. "You can't blame yourself for when something like that happens! They brought it on themselves." Poland shook his head.

"No, it's nothing like that. This person died through no fault of her own... she was ill, and pregnant, and the doctors refused to provide treatment to her because the treatment might cause an abortion! She died, as well as the fetus. Maybe not both deaths could have been prevented, but at least the woman might still be alive if the doctors had treated her!" Everyone nodded in agreement. But Arthur seemed to be thinking about something else.

"You know, a lot of your citizens travel to my country to get cheaper medical care from the NHS- I know you know about it, you even made that poster campaign telling people that the medical care here is cheaper! Why didn't she come here?" he asked, a small accusation hiding behind his words. "After all, it doesn't seem like most people have a problem with it- we get people from all over trying to mooch British medical care!"

"I don't know," Feliks replied. "Maybe she didn't have the money."

"Wait a minute," China interrupted. "You mean they wouldn't treat her because it might cause an abortion?"

"Yeah. We, like, have a law that allows doctors to not have to perform services that go against their personal convictions."

"That's... interesting," the Asian nation replied. "In my country, we have an opposite problem. Because so many people want sons, lots of girl fetuses are being aborted, and now there's a lot fewer women than there are men. And then my government's one child only policy shrank the younger generations even more. Now we might not be able to have enough younger workers to replace the older ones, and not enough women for everyone- our next generation might be even smaller!"

"We have the same thing," India said, agreeing with China as he drank his beer.

Throughout this exchange, Alfred remained curiously silent. It wasn't as though he didn't have anything to add to the discussion- lord knows that he did, every day seemed to bring some kind of new American reproductive issues controversy. Reproductive issues hadn't even reallly been on the forefront of anyone's mind until two Supreme Court cases, Griswold v. Connecticut and Roe v. Wade. But he wanted to avoid getting into this topic. His politics were already so divided, and even more divided on this issue. It had even turned deadly, with murders and terrorist attacks. And when things like religion got involved, everything ended up about a million times more complicated, because of different standards and dogmas. Situations vary as well, and different situations call for different results.

It was because of all of this that Alfred really, really hoped that no one would ask him what was going on with that sort of situation in his country. "Please, please, let them just keep talking about it," he thought to himself. "Please don't ask me anything..."

Of course, one of the most constant truths of the universe is that nothing works out the way you want it to. If you want someone to talk to you, the way things work out is that everyone ignores you. And if you wish people would just bog off and leave you alone, they will always, without fail, come to bother you.

"It was you that had the whole abortion issue come to the forefront first, right, Alfred?" Kiiku asked. "What do you think?"

Crap.

To Be Continued

Author's Comments:

In order to sort of bridge the gap and introduce this topic, we're back to the pub with the nations discussing things. And the Polish woman dying because doctors refused her medical treatment? It's recent news from Poland- they have a law here that allows medical professionals to deny care in cases that it would violate their personal ethics. Because the treatment could have caused an abortion, every doctor she went to denied her care. Which just seems stupid to me- you deny the pregnant woman care and she dies, then by extension you've killed the fetus. But I guess that never occurred to them...

Also, people in Poland, as well as other countries, will travel to Britain to get medical care from the NHS, because it is cheaper than getting it in their own countries. According to my British friend, it usually pisses off Britons because it can clog up the system, especially when it's for non-essential procedures. However, he also told me that if itwas necessary to save a person's life no one would really begrudge them treatment.

Like I said in the topic, I was really unsure if I was going to try to do chapters on this topic. Every time someone brings up this issue in the national sphere, there ends up being a big confrontation and more debate, and while I normally do not shy away from the controversial topics, this one is a lot more uncomfortable for me to talk about, especially because everyone seems to be on one of the extremes- either abortion should be completely illegal in all cases, or completely legal in all cases. I believe that the actuality is somewhere in the middle- abortion for medical reasons, in the case of rape or incest, or if the fetus will be born with major medical issues, as well as by choice up through a reasonable limit. When the fetus becomes viable, I do think that only doing it for legitimate medical reasons should be allowed, however. I don't have all the answers, though, i's a complicated issue.

In a perfect world, people wouldn't do the horizontal tango unless they were fully prepared to deal with all of the possible consequences of their actions, but then again., we don't live in a perfect world.

Alright. Thanks for reading.

-Kaboom


	22. Confounding Factors

**Warning: See last chapter, it's pretty much the same, only with an added side of slightly graphic gore. Please read the ending comments as well for clarification.**

Chapter Twenty-Two: Confounding Factors

Winter 1962

Before that day, Alfred had never really thought a whole lot about what happens to females when they become pregnant with an unwanted child. It just wasn't something countries really had to deal with- countries just didn't really have kids. It wasn't completely unheard of (Greece and Egypt had known their mothers, who actually had been their biological parents). But after that day, it was a problem that Alfred simply couldn't ignore. Citizens of his were dying. That much was true, and no one was going to argue that point. Exactly _who_ the citizens that were dying were, on the other hand... _that_ was a much greater problem.

The first time he saw the victim of a back-alley abortion, he had been walking down a side street in Washington D.C. On his way back from a meeting he'd had with JFK, he'd stopped at a small restaurant to grab a cup of coffee, before continuing back to his apartment. Deciding he'd take a shortcut through a deserted alleyway, he was making good time until something that appeared to be a human foot poking out from behind a trash can caught his eye. Thinking it was some drunk taking a nap, he didn't think much of it, just thought he'd make sure the guy was still alive. But when he moved the trash can, it became apparent that the foot belonged not to a drunkard, but to a dead body.

The victim appeared to be in her late teens, early twenties. Caucasian. Approximately 120 pounds. She was naked, and it could have been a sexual assault turned fatal, but somehow, he doubted it. There had been copious bleeding from both wounds on her stomach and from the genital area. Believing this to be a murder, Alfred alerted the police and wished to know who the woman was and what the cause of death had been.

Two weeks later, he heard back from the chief of police. "Her name was Carol Wilkinson. She was 19 years old at the time of death, and was studying to become a teacher."

"Was she murdered?" Alfred asked. "It's so sad... that a student would be killed so randomly like that. Stuff like that just doesn't happen in Foggy Bottom, it's not supposed to!"

"She wasn't murdered, although she might as well have been," the police chief replied cryptically. Without waiting for Alfred to ask him what was going on, the man continued- "According to our autopsy reports, she had been pregnant."

"And they killed a pregnant woman!" Alfred sounded horrified.

"We're actually not sure how to classify this, honestly," the police chief said. "Detective Lewis wants to classify it as suicide. Dr. Liebowitz thinks it should be classified as manslaughter. Honestly, I think the best way to describe it is medical malpractice."

"Medical malpractice?"

"Miss Wilkinson attempted to procure an abortion," the police chief replied. "Whoever she got it from really did a number on her- there was blunt force trauma to her stomach, lacerations, some gashes that we think came from a scalpel, and internal tearing."

"That sounds like murder to me!" Alfred exclaimed. "Are you sure she sought this out herself?"

"Very sure. At first, we thought it was murder as well," the man explained. "However, we spoke to Miss Wilkinson's roommate, who knew that she was pregnant and that she intended to seek out an illegal procedure to terminate the pregnancy. And it wouldn't have been the first back-alley abortion in the area, although the three other women we know of who sought the procedure survived."

"Thank you for telling me this," Alfred replied, shaken by the revelation, before hanging up the phone. He hadn't ever really thought of the situation before. He knew that people who couldn't have children liked to adopt them, sometimes from people who didn't want said children, but he hadn't ever thought that a woman might be so desperate not to have the child that she would willingly do something so dangerous as letting a random person perform a complex medical procedure on her, in somewhere as unsanitary as a back alleyway. Something had to be done, or at least that's what he felt about it.

* * *

Autumn 2010

A decade had passed since Alfred had found the dead woman in the alley, and in 1973 the Supreme Court decided on the case _Roe v. Wade, _which made abortion legal. And ever since then, two sides had been battling it out for the support of the American public. The people who supported the decision had come to be known as "pro-choicers", and people who advocated for stricter control of abortion access, or for the procedure to be banned outright, were called "pro-life."

And the ideological battle had become very literal. Doctor's clinics had been bombed, several doctors themselves had been targeted for murder. In 1991, religious groups had descended on Wichita, Kansas, for something called the Summer of Mercy, in which they tried to stop abortion that way. Some of the protesters took to harassing pregnant women who were far along in their pregnancies, women who had obviously decided to keep the babies. They stopped people on their way to work with graphic images of late-term abortions, screamed at passing people, and ultimately didn't really change anyone's mind. Those who supported abortion rights just found themselves disgusted at the behavior of supposedly "rational" adults. And those who were pro-life just found more fuel for their ideological fire.

Being a nation, Alfred was able to see both sides of the debate. He understood that not every pregnancy would result in a healthy, happy baby, and sometimes those complications that arose would be fatal to both the mother and the child, if nothing was done. He also understood that some people really couldn't deal with the stress of having a child, and it could be worse for it if it was born to those people.

But at the same time, he realized that the line had to be drawn somewhere, and that not every procedure was successful. Something had to be done about the babies who survived abortions and were born alive, and that elective abortion at a certain point was extremely dangerous.

Meeting Scott Jameson, a thirteen-year-old who had survived a late-term saline abortion, was a wake-up call. Scott had survived, but as a result was heavily scarred on his face, blind in one eye, and could not walk. His biological mother had attempted to abort him in the eighth month of pregnancy, obviously not expecting the fetus to survive. Luckily for Scott, a nurse at the hospital had been trying to have children but could not, and decided to adopt the badly burned baby. Scott was lucky enough to grow up in a loving home, despite his disabilities, had very good scores at school, enjoyed playing World of Warcraft, spending time with his friends, and was making progress towards maybe eventually being able to walk. He had won an essay contest allowing him to meet the personification of the United States of America, and he and Alfred had a conversation for a while about a lot of things. But Alfred eventually brought up the essay topic- his circumstances. Scott had a lot of love for the woman he considered to be his mom, and the man he considered to be his dad, and his little sister, who his parents had adopted from Vietnam a few years earlier. But when he spoke of his biological mother, his face darkened.

"She tried to kill me," he told Alfred candidly. "And she would have let me die, even though I was born alive. She didn't care. She's a horrible waste of a human being. If anyone should have been aborted, it was her." Clearly, the young man had a lot of anger and hatred towards the woman. "I don't really care what people say about 'it's the woman's choice.' What about my choice? I was obviously old enough to be viable, what gave her the right to try to kill me?"

"Well, according to the Supreme Court-" Alfred began, but the boy cut him off.

"Please, America!" he begged. "Please do something about this- I don't want to see anyone else killed in the way they tried to kill me."

To Be Continued

Author's Comments:

Ugh. I do _not_ have the time to be writing this... I've got exams and a Resident Life hearing to prepare for...

Like I said in the author's note last chapter, this is a controversial issue, and one that could take up pages and pages of words. It's also a lot more complex than this chapter makes it seem, however, I tried to give two sides of the situation, both are based on real events.

In the late 1950s, my grandfather knew a girl who got pregnant, and in her desperation, sought an illegal abortion from a guy claiming to be a doctor. Instead, he hacked her up so badly that she died, in pain, in dingy basement somewhere. No one found her until a few weeks later, and it was very clear from the state that her body was in that she had sought an illegal abortion. It did remove the fetus from her body, but... well, it obviously didn't work out as well as had been intended. Because of this, my grandfather, although he is pro-life, believes that abortion should be kept legal because if it is illegalized (is that a word?) again, people could seek out illegal abortions and will die like the girl he knew.

The Summer of Mercy was a real event in Wichita, KS, that took place in the Summer of 1991. I have heard stories about it, especially because I was born in Wichita, but if you're really interested look it up on the Internet, or PM me, because I don't feel comfortable sharing that particular story in the public sphere like this.

As for the Scott character, the late-term saline abortion has a high rate of fetus survival. The survivors are often badly burned from the saline solution injected into the amniotic fluid, and are often disabled. You can Google some of their stories.

Once again, I'd like to stress that I am not trying to push one point of view over another, that is why I included two different sides to this chapter. I personally am not against abortion up to a point- once the fetus becomes viable I believe it should only be done to save the life of the mother, but early on, while it's definitely not desirable situation, I see it as acceptable. I don't expect you to agree with me, just trying to clarify my point.

-Kaboom


	23. Goodbye, Madam Speaker

**Warnings: Nothing special for this chapter, just politicians hanging out, and a clingy Nancy Pelosi. **

Chapter Twenty-Three: Goodbye, Madam Speaker

Different presidents did things differently on the day of the midterm elections. George H.W. Bush preferred to spend the day alone, brooding and watching the television nervously, hoping that the electorate would keep his party in power. Bill Clinton liked having important people in his party over for a nice dinner, where they would discuss the possible outcomes of the election, and watch the television after dessert. George W. Bush liked to have his advisors and Alfred over for burgers, and no one payed much attention to the news, since they were having more fun just spending time. Barack Obama, on the other hand, invited just three people to the basement of the White House to watch the elections on a big-screen television while sitting on a very comfortable sofa- Alfred, Nancy Pelosi, and Joe Biden. The White House kitchen staff had provided all kinds of delicious snacks and drinks, and by the time the election results were announced, everyone was pleasantly stuffed and had a minor alcohol buzz. Things were going well, until the television news anchor dropped the bomb: the Republicans had taken control of the House of Representatives. Nancy Pelosi immediately started sniffling, and pulled Alfred onto her lap, hugging him tightly.

"I'm going to miss you, Alfred," she sniffled, slightly slurring her words. "Promise me you won't forget me, alright?"

"Are you stupid?" Biden snorted in response. "It's not like you're never going to see him again, woman! You kept your seat, you were voted back in! You're still a member of Congress! Stop actling like you got laid off! You weren't!"

"But I'm not going to be the Speaker of the House anymore," Pelosi sighed. "I might as well have just lost my job." To punctuate her sentence, she squeezed Alfred even tighter around the middle, who was beginning to show signs of distress.

"Um, can you please-" he began before a particularly strong hug to his middle cut off his air. "GAAK!"

"Stop squeezing him, you're going to crush him!" Biden said in alarm, making an attempt to free Alfred from Pelosi's clutches. Unfortunately, this only exerted more pressure on poor Alfred, who made a sound like a stepped-on squeaky toy. It was time for the president to step in.

"Both of you, let him go! You're going to kill him! Can't you just hear Glenn Beck's announcement? 'DEMOCRATS LITERALLY SQUISH AMERICA!' Do you want to have to explain to the people what happened to their country? I'll tell you one thing, they won't take it very well." Both of the other politicians dropped Alfred back onto the sofa, who wheezed, trying to regain his breath.

"If you want to hug me, tell me first, OK?" he finally said, once he had his wind back. Pelosi had the good grace to look ashamed.

"Sorry Alfred. Heat of the moment. I guess I was kind of shocked."

"No, it's cool," Alfred said, understanding her motivations. "But I'd prefer not to get squashed next time. And I'm sorry to hear about the loss of your position. You always did your job well, and I can only hope that whoever is the next Speaker has the same dedication to the job that you had." Pelosi smiled.

"I've given my entire adult life to try to make things better for our people, Alfred," she said. "I'm just sorry that I will no longer be able to serve the country in the same capacity that I have been. And I'm just afraid now that we'll _never_ get anything done, with the Republicans controlling the House. They hate us, you know. They'll try to stop every single thing that we do, just because it was something that we did."

"Yeah, even those bills about naming post offices are going to fall into the policy gridlock," Biden said darkly. Obama sighed.

"This is really going to complicate our health-care reform efforts," he added. "Especially since the Republicans have sworn to overturn it, along with everything else I do. Hell, I could declare every day to be Christmas and they'd oppose it!"

Everyone fell into a companionable silence, watching the rest of the news. The next bit of news was greeted with joyful reactions from the Democrats. They'd managed to keep control of the Senate. "Maybe things will be OK after all!" Pelosi cried, high-fiving Biden. Alfred just smiled and shook his head. Despite their public personas, politicians really were just normal people who reacted to good and bad news just like everyone else. Sometimes it was easy to forget that, but the truth was, they had likes and dislikes and hopes just like everyone else. It didn't matter what party said politician was from, it didn't matter what their beliefs were, the important thing to remember was that they were Americans too.

A little while later, Alfred's cell phone buzzed with a text message from Mike Castle. Curiously, he flipped it open, only to read "WHAT DID I TELL YOU?" in big letters. Alfred had a good idea as to what that was about, and he turned to the television to confirm it. Yep. Christine O'Donnell had not been elected. He remembered Castle's dark words- "She might as well have wrapped the election up in a pretty bow and handed it to the Democrats!" While there had been some turnover, quite a few incumbents had retained their Senate seats, and Alfred immediately started taking notes of the election winners. Every year there was an election he sent congratulation cards to everyone.

"Hey," he finally said, breaking the silence again. "Who do you think will be the new Speaker?" Pelosi's face darkened again.

"Probably John Boehner," she said. "Why do you ask?"

"Don't you remember?" Alfred asked. "When you were chosen, I had a meeting with you to figure out how you were going to run things. I need to do that again, and besides, I like to get to know the people who have the potential to be my boss eventually." Pelosi looked alarmed.

"Haven't you met him before?" she asked. "I thought you knew everyone in the government!"

"Yes, I've met him before, but I need to know about his agenda, it makes things easier for me," Alfred explained. "That way nothing comes as a surprise and I can help formulate a plan of action, provided of course that the politician's plan doesn't go against the interests of the people."

"But doesn't everything someone does go against the wishes of some of the people?" Biden asked curiously. Alfred shrugged.

"Yeah, pretty much, but I'm talking about the seriously big stuff. Like, what if we got some super-villain politician who wants to nuke Las Vegas? That would _definitely_ not be in anyone's best interests!" Everyone had a laugh at that.

"Super-villain politicians! That's ridiculous, Alfred!" Pelosi laughed.

"Yeah, what does this look like, a comic book?" Biden added, snorting with laughter. Alfred just smiled and shook his head. They were too young to know what had happened during some of the more sordid periods in his history. Oh, sure, there were no super-villain politicians in the line of the Joker, or Lex Luthor, but there had been politicians with less-than-honest intentions in his history, and who had caused many more problems for the American people than the terrorists in Glenn Beck's nightmares could even dream of.

And people had fallen for them.

To Be Continued

Author's Comments:

UGH. I thought I was never going to get this done. As you can probably tell, it's meant to be a lot lighter than the last chapter, and here we are hanging out with some politicians. I don't know, I thought the idea of a slightly drunk, sad about the election outcome, Nancy Pelosi squishing Alfred like he was a giant teddy bear to be hilarious.

In other news, I now have a blog. If you're interested in reading my original fiction or just random stuff, head on over to goeskaboom(dot)insanejournal(dot)com. I occasionally blog about political stuff, so if you feel like it, feel free to check it out.

-Kaboom


	24. Holiday Havoc

**Warnings: Minor ideologically sensitive content involving religion, crazy people, and Alfred in a Santa hat. **

Chapter Twenty-Four: Holiday Havoc

Ah, December. Alfred, being a nation, was well aware of all the different holidays that took place in December, and as such, he had to get presents and become the public face of the government's holiday cheer. At least Eid al-Adha had been earlier this year, so he had more time to prepare a special greeting to his Muslim citizens and get gifts for the other nations that celebrated the holiday. Last year, Pakistan hadn't really appreciated the bottle of knockoff perfume he'd gotten for her (she claimed that drugstore Chanel no.5 smelled nothing like _real_ Chanel no.5), and Saudi Arabia wasn't really sure what to make of the Blu-Ray disc he'd gotten, considering that he didn't have a Blu-Ray player, which almost led to a minor diplomatic incident. But this year had been much better- Alfred got Pakistan a beautiful shawl knitted by an artisan in Colorado, which she loved, and this time, he actually got something that Saudi Arabia had a use for- designer sunglasses.

This year, though, he still had things to do before the holidays hit. There still were many presents to buy for the rest of the nations, greetings to his citizens to record, and holiday cheer to spread. This year, Obama had an idea that Alfred thought was absolutely ridiculous- he was supposed to go around on his errands wearing a Santa hat. "No," he'd said when he first heard the idea. "I'd look like a fool."

"Lots of people do it around this time of year, it's festive!" the president had countered. "And you'll be spreading the message that the government cares about the holidays as well. It's a win-win situation!" Alfred decided not to fight the idea any more, knowing that he'd just end up tired and having to wear the stupid hat anyway.

So that afternoon, he was buying gifts for the rest of the nations, looking at the list of stuff that had been recommended. Alfred wasn't too keen on any of the suggestions for Francis- who the hell needs edible underwear? He decided to go the safer route and get a bottle of good wine- if there was one thing the Frenchman always appreciated, it was wine. While in the store, Alfred decided to pick up his annual present for Ivan as well. The two of them had a sort of uneasy truce during the holidays- Alfred gave Ivan vodka, and Ivan gave Alfred vodka. It was so common that everyone had begun to think of Christmas between the two of them as "vodka-mas," although Sealand was the only one who actually called it that to their faces.

When the clerk finished ringing up the purchases, Alfred paid, and then said to her, "Happy holidays, ma'am." Normally, people just ignored the greeting, or returned it cheerfully. Occasionally, someone would go off on a rant about how the holidays sucked because they had to choose between presents or paying the bills, or they hated their relatives and didn't want anything to do with them. But Alfred certainly never expected the reaction he go.

"_HAPPY HOLIDAYS?"_ the woman yelled. "_HAPPY HOLIDAYS?_ What is it with you people and trying to take Christ out of Christmas! It's the _CHRISTMAS_ season, and if you speak to me, you will recognize that this nation was founded on _principles._ I guess you thought you were trying to be politically correct and cater to all the foreigners here? I hate to break it to you, mister, but this is a Judeo-Christian nation! And we celebrate Christmas!"

"Um, ma'am, I apologize, I didn't mean to offend you," Alfred said quickly. "Because I cannot tell what holiday a person celebrates just by looking at them, I make it a point to wish them 'happy holidays' to make sure I get the holiday right. It was not my intent to offend you." Alfred had to restrain himself from going off on her- contrary to popular belief, there were a lot of Americans, not all of who celebrate Christmas. But that wasn't worth getting into- there were people among his citizens who were still convinced that unless your family came over before the Revolutionary War, you weren't technically American. But that explanation didn't really fly with the woman, who continued to rant.

"It's all part of our politically correct society now that you can't even say 'merry Christmas' without worrying that some atheist is going to sue you for mentioning Christianity in polite company! If we were more careful about the kind of people who we let into the country, then this wouldn't happen at all! Young man, I feel that I must ask you this- are you saved?"

"Uh... saved?" Alfred asked.

"Are you going to go to heaven?"

"I suppose so," Alfred replied, not really sure how to explain that even if there was a heaven and a hell, he wouldn't be going there any time soon, considering that he was a country, and countries didn't exactly die. The woman shook her head.

"You suppose so, huh? That's not good enough. You need to be absolutely right with god before you die, or else you'll go to hell! Being a good person isn't enough!"

"Alright, ma'am, I apologize for upsetting you," Alfred said, quickly gathering his belongings and heading for the door. "Merry Christmas to you."

* * *

Alfred had already known about the so-called "culture wars" raging in his country, although he never knew that they extended to something as benign as the holiday season. Yeah, there were always a few complaints from Grinches who hated the holidays, and the occasional court battle over whether or not you could put a manger scene on city property, but he never realized how serious some people took the "war on Christmas."

"Yeah, we had a big problem over here," Arthur said when he and Alfred met for tea and coffee a few days later. "The city of Birmingham in 1997 and 1998 tried to do this new season of holiday events called Winterval. It was supposed to be a mash-up of "winter" and "festival," and it encompassed stuff from Guy Fawkes' Night to Christmas, to Chinese New Year. But people here got angry and said it was a way to avoid referring to Christmas! All the council wanted to do was make a fun time for everyone that encompassed a lot of holidays."

"You mean this isn't just an American problem?" Alfred asked. "I feel kind of better knowing that it's not just my citizens."

"Nah, it's happening all over the place," Arthur replied. "Why, did something else happen? I mean, other than getting yelled at by the bonkers liquor store clerk?"

"Yeah. I did some Googling," Alfred explained, "and found out that there is a group of people angry because the Floriida Turnpike has decided not to put up Christmas decorations this year."

"Why not?" Arthur asked curiously.

"Apparently there were some people offended by their Halloween decorations, so they decided not to do any more holiday decorations at all. Ironically the same group that complained abut the Halloween decorations complained about the lack of Christmas decorations."

"That's... bloody ridiculous. How do window clings hurt anyone?"

"Don't ask me," Alfred replied. "And then there's this guy who got upset because a city holiday display had a Menorah put up for Jewish people. He got angry because all the Christians got were trees, snowflakes, penguins, snowmen, and Santa Claus. He said it wasn't fair that they got secular symbols."

"What else is there as a symbol of Hanukkah?" Arthur asked. "I can't think of anything."

"Dreidl," Alfred replied. "He thought they should get a dreidl instead." Arthur just shook his head.

"You'd think Ebenezer Scrooge had come back to life and had infested your country," he said. "Why can't people just celebrate their holidays without contention and just embrace the spirit of the season? You know, peace on earth and goodwill towards men?"

"Who knows," Alfred replied. "It seems like everything has to be political nowadays."

To Be Continued

Author's Comments:

In case you're interested, I wrote a three-part article on the so-called "war on Christmas." It's available on my blog.

I don't particularly like this chapter, either- it seems too Grinch-y to me, but I felt it was necessary. I'm not tryiing to hate on anyone, though: all of the holiday Scrooge spirit examples come from real events, including one that happened at my university while I was in the dining hall. The lady who scans student ID's to let you in to get your food told a girl "happy holidays," and she went berserk. Started yelling about how this is the Christmas season and that Jesus is the reason for the season and everything. The poor ID lady was shell-shocked, since she was just trying to be nice. I've seen similar freak-outs in public places as well. There have also been people who believe that unless your family came over before the Revolution, you're technically not American. The guy told me that because my family didn't get here from Lithuania until the 1920s, I'm not American. Anyway, no matter what holiday you celebrate, happy holidays! Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Joyous Kwanzaa, Happy New Year, etc, etc.

-Kaboom


	25. None Of Your Business

**Warning: This chapter is about Wikileaks. While you're not going to find anything in here that you can't find on Wikipedia or any news source that isn't WorldNetDaily, I would caution against reading this at work, school, or in public (even though I typed it up in the public library). If I had to pick any part of this chapter to be really wary of, it would be the author's comments at the end. **

Chapter Twenty-Five: None Of Your Business

When the news that an organization dedicated to releasing secret information had released a bunch of documents on American diplomatic relations hit, Alfred didn't worry too much about it. He didn't really directly deal with other countries' bosses, and he trusted that his diplomats wouldn't have done anything stupid. After all, they were supposed to be diplomatic! So he was completely unprepared for that night at the pub the countries always gathered at. Ivan Braginski entered, scowling even more than usual. As soon as he caught sight of Alfred sitting at the table, enjoying a beer, he stormed over and slammed his hand down, causing the beer to spill all over Alfred.

"What the hell, Ivan!" he complained, dabbing at the mess with a napkin.

"America, you asshole! You said I was run by the Mafiya! That's not true! And besides, you have your own problems with organized crime! Or did you forget what happened with Al Capone? And how dare you call my boss Robin to my other boss's Batman! They are nothing like Batman and Robin! And you claim that my bosses knew about the poisonings of political dissidents? Are you accusing them of conspiracy?"

"Ivan, I have no idea what you're talking about," Alfred said, genuinely confused. "I never called you Batman and Robin."

"Don't try to play stupid! And I know you didn't call _me_ Batman and Robin!" Ivan yelled. "You ought to know, since your people said it! In their little cables that the Australian guy leaked!"

"No, Ivan, I seriously do not know what you are talking about," Alfred replied, even more confused than before. "I do know documents were leaked but I had no idea what they said. It's not like the diplomats let me read their private messages. If they did call you the Mafia and Batman, then I will find out who did it and talk to them to let them know that is not acceptable."

"You didn't even bother to look at the documents when they were leaked?" Ivan asked. This time it was his turn to be confused. "Why would you _not_ read the documents?"

"I had more important things to do, and I didn't think it was going to be a big deal..." Ivan just rolled his eyes.

"You might want to look into those documents, America," he replied. "That way you won't look like an idiot when someone else confronts you about it. And I know they _will_ be confronting you about it. No one is very pleased with the way your people described their bosses and societies... especially France."

"Oh god, what did they say about France?" Alfred asked, getting a very bad feeling about this. Ivan smirked.

"I'd tell you, but I think he wants to have the chance to tell you himself, and he's here right now," the large Russian man replied, stepping to the side to allow an irritated Francis Bonnefoy access to the table.

"Where do you get off calling my boss the 'emperor with no clothes?'" the Frenchman asked irritably. "I've never said anything so disrespectful about any of your bosses, not even your last one!" Alfred resisted the urge to bang his head on the table.

"Francis, I had no idea that any of my diplomats said anything like that," he explained. "I did not have access to the documents before the leak, it's not like they send me an email every time they say something. I am sorry for any offense caused and will be speaking to all diplomats about how important it is in their line of work to be, well, diplomatic." France didn't look convinced.

"Are you saying you didn't look at the documents when they were released in the first place?" he asked. "Why would you _not_ do that?"

"I didn't think it was necessary!" Alfred retorted. "I'm sorry!" France still didn't seem like he completely believed Alfred, but at least made his stance less aggressive.

The rest of the evening went on with countries from everywhere showing up to yell at Alfred for his lack of tact. He even got a email from Im Hyun Soo, North Korea, Yong Soo's reclusive, paranoid twin brother, saying that "So you think I act like a spoilt child? I show you just how much of a spoilt child I can be... WITH MY NUKES!" While Hyun Soo had a propensity for threatening to nuke EVERYONE, lately he had been a bit more aggressive, which could cause some problems. He quickly typed back the same response that he had been giving everyone else- that he wasn't aware of the content of the documents until a few minutes ago. The response? "ARE YOU STUPID? Why would you _not_ read the documents? I will hold off on destroying you for now... but slip up again and I WILL NUKE YOU!"

After what seemed like hours, everyone finally got everything out of their systems, they started asking Alfred what he planned to do to control the damage. Alfred sighed. "I don't know," he replied. "From what you're saying the guy behind it isn't American? I can't do anything about that!"

"What about the guy who leaked the documents in the first place?" Ivan suggested. "Maybe you could make him... disappear." Everyone backed away slowly from the Russian.

"Uh... that's not how we deal with political enemies in my country," Alfred replied. "But, uh, thanks anyway for the suggestion."

"Anytime!" Ivan said cheerily, causing everyone to step back even further.

When the night was finally over, Alfred went back to Washington D.C, where he spoke to a military official who assured him that yes, the one responsible for leaking the information was being held in custody. Alfred nodded, not really sure what to think about that. Then, he went back to his apartment, booted up his computer, and decided to see for himself what the documents said.

He was very surprised to see that indeed, his diplomats said what the other countries accused him of saying. He was also shocked to see the other information that the organization had posted- BP's lousy safety records before and after the Gulf oil spill, the falsified data on the climate change, and a whole host of some extremely fucked-up stuff that had been happening right under his nose. He made a mental note to verify the contents of _those_ documents, and if they turned out to be true... well, he wasn't even sure how he could go about fixing problems of that magnitude.

The leaks were embarrassing, humiliating, and awkward, as well as very eye-opening. But there was _a lot_ of information there- even if he tightened security, could they really keep the information from becoming free? And at what cost? Was he really willing to give up freedom just to save face?

It was something he was going to have to think very hard about.

To Be Continued

Really Long Author's Comments:

Here we are, the long-awaited Wikileaks chapter.

To be honest, for a while I wasn't sure whether or not I was even going to do this chapter, even though I wanted to. For a lot of people I have talked to, both IRL and OTI, people cannot seem to separate Wikileaks from Julian Assange, and immediately think "WIKILEAKS = JULIAN ASSANGE = RAPIST." (which opens up a whole other can of worms as to whether or not the accusations are legitimate, but I'm not going to get into that here- it ends badly). Other people I know consider Assange to be a hero.

You will notice that I left him out of this except for passing mentions to "the Australian guy." I did that on purpose, because I didn't want this to become a courtroom. I didn't want to pass judgment on whether or not he's a spy, or a rapist, or a hacker, or a traitor (which is kind of LOLWUT seeing as he's not American so technically release of American documents doesn't make him a traitor) or whatever else the media is calling him these days.

I wanted to focus more on the content of the leaks, which when I read them I immediately started thinking of how countries might react to them. All of what Russia and France and North Korea accused Alfred of calling them are true., you can find them through Google. Also, I like writing crazy trigger-happy North Korea. Because I can just picture the personification of that country lurking around and emailing threats just because he can.

Anyway, feel free to tell me your take on the situation, it's always interesting to hear what people have to say on this subject.

Edit: Huh. FFnet ate this chapter the first time I submitted it. Hopefully this time it works.

-Kaboom


	26. There Are Palm Trees In Wisconsin?

**Warning: Nothing for this chapter.**

Chapter Twenty-Six: There Are Palm Trees In Wisconsin?

Once upon a time, Alfred remembered when the television news programs were bastions of correct information, with truthful news anchors, and programs that reported nothing but the facts. He remembered it being like that back in the 1940s, the 1950s, and even the 1960s and 70s. But then came the advent of cable television, and the advent of the ratings system. If a program didn't get enough ratings, odds are it would be cut.

So the news networks brought in all kinds of things they thought would bring attention- flashy graphics, dramatic music, pundits... all of that would have been unthinkable in the early days of television, but now, it was standard fare.

Unfortunately, all of this flashy stuff made it easy for mistakes to be made, the wrong footage shown, maps mixed up, or even purposely duplicitous editing to make the populace think one way. But overall, his favorites were when the networks screwed up so amazingly, that everyone stopped to scratch their heads and go, "what?"

For example, one particularly widely-watched network made the mistake of labeling Iraq as Egypt, much to the consternation of both of those countries. "So, what, I don't exist anymore or something!" Iraq yelled at Alfred angrily at one meeting. "Just wipe me off the map, huh, like you've already tried to do? Now your news networks aren't even trying to hide it!"

"I'm sorry, Hasib," Alfred apologized profusely to the other man. "I swear to you, though, I had nothing to do with it. I don't even know the people responsible for that broadcast very well. I've met them maybe once in my life- it certainly wasn't my intention to mislabel you as Egypt. It might have even been a computer malfunction, sometimes they layer documents on top of each other and give the wrong labels. Or it could have been an intern who didn't know anything about geography. I am very sorry, and I definitely wasn't trying to imply that you don't exist or anything like that." Iraq stared at Alfred for a while, then apparently decided that he believed him.

"You need to work on getting your news accurate," he finally said. Alfred wisely held back any sarcastic retort that found its way into his mind.

Egypt, on the other hand, was slightly more amused by the error, rolling his eyes when he found out. "Since when have I not been in Africa? Or is this some new kind of American map I don't know about yet?" he teased. Alfred snorted.

"Hardly. I don't even know how that happened, and Iraq already yelled at me about it."

"I'm sure he did," Egypt agreed. "But you'd better be careful... people might start to think you have an agenda."

"What kind of agenda, one to make everyone suck at geography?" Alfred replied. Egypt shrugged.

"Who knows. Maybe."

* * *

Or, then there were the polls that had numbers adding up to way more than 100%. The first few times it happened, Alfred was willing to write it off as a computer malfunction. After it happened more than three times, he began to suspect it was the work of Internet pranksters. But even Internet pranksters would have found something else to do by the tenth or eleventh time it happened. By then, he just had to reach one conclusion: whoever was putting these results together was either really dumb or not paying attention. After all, how could over 300% of American voters decide they were going to support the Republican party? Or how could 78% of Americans not agree with the way the country was being run, while 25% agreed, with 18% undecided? That was definitely a lot more than 100%. Who else were they counting to get that number? Random Canadians?

It was after that that he sent a memo out to the major network executives asking them to please check their facts before they put broadcasts on the air, because it was very embarrassing for him when people asked him about why the news was so inaccurate. Of course, he got a bunch of memos back saying that they would do so, but Alfred wasn't very confident.

Not too long afterwards, his skepticism was proven justified.

* * *

In the beginning of 2011, the Wisconsin governor decided that he was going to cut the state budget, and in the process remove collective bargaining for teachers, and strip away the rights of workers' unions. Naturally, this caused a lot of protests, mostly which involved people peacefully carrying signs, standing around in the bitter cold, and explaining as calmly as the circumstances allowed why they disagreed. As far as protests went, it was more or less peaceful.

But, the news networks knew that peaceful protest didn't make for particularly exciting television. So they broke out some stock footage of riots, and claimed that was what was happening in the Wisconsin capitol. Alfred watched that particular broadcast, getting ready to go see for himself how bad the situation had gottten, when he noticed something.

Most of those protestors were wearing shorts and T-shirts. In what was supposed to be Wisconsin. In February. Now, Alfred rarely spent time in the most northern states in the wintertime unless he absolutely had to, and there was a reason behind that: it was really damn cold. While he supposed that they could be making some kind of statement, he highly doubted that large groups of people in Wisconsin would be wearing summertime clothes in the middle of February.

"Do you know what the temperature in Madison is today?" Alfred asked a passing intern, who looked at him rather blankly.

"Uh... hold on, I can check my phone," he said, taking the black rectangle out of his pocket and tapping away on it. "Uh... 27 degrees Fahrenheit," the intern replied after a bit.

"Alright, thank you," Alfred responded. The intern gave him an inscrutable glance, then carried on his way, muttering things about weird government officials and why can't they just watch the damn weather channel.

OK, now he was certain. Alfred _highly_ doubted that anyone would go to a riot in summertime clothes when it was 27 degrees outside. Curiously, he turned back to the television to watch a bit more coverage, wondering what other mistakes he could find.

And then, he saw them. Palm trees, apparently lining the streets of Madison, Wisconsin. Now, it had been about a year since he had actually been to Madison, but he distinctly remembered there being a dearth of palm trees. In fact, this video footage looked more like it was from California.

It was then that he decided to turn off the television. Screw this. He'd just read the newspaper.

To Be Continued

Author's Comments:

Alright, I honestly have no idea what happened last time. This story updated by itself and put the wrong document up, something that I realized very quickly since I was online at the time. I took down the error, since I hadn't completed this chapter yet.

And yes, sometimes television news does screw up and put the wrong documents on the screen, and show the wrong footage. All of the incidents mentioned here are true- Fox News seems to have a bit of a problem with maps. And figuring out that a place with palm trees != Wisconsin in February. But similar things have happened on other networks as well, you can Google it and see some stories.

This should have been published almost a week and a half ago, but the FFnet wasn't cooperating. I'm not sure if it was the crappy university network, or internal instability on the part of the site, but this is about the sixth time this has happened since January, and it's getting to the point where it's practically unusable. If it's not rectified soon, I will be completely moving to Livejournal (under the username elitekaboom), or AO3. I don't really want to do this, but I kind of want to use a site that doesn't constantly crash my browser and actually lets me update. I won't be moving until this story is complete, however (and I'm not sure how long that will be), and if it starts behaving itself I might not move at all. Just thought I'd give you a heads up.

-Kaboom


	27. Certified

**Warnings: Nothing for this chapter, very important author's note at the end. **

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Certified

All things considered, Alfred really didn't understand this fuss about birth certificates. Until the early 1900s, the government didn't bother with such things- if a child was born, his or her family would mark the birth down in their own records, and sometimes, local churches would keep tabs on births and deaths. There was no need for the government to get involved, the people did just fine on their own. And then, the 20th century dawned, and it was decided that all children born in the United States would need a birth certificate, to prove that they were actually American, something that Alfred found to be rather useless. If it came down to it, that they needed to know definitively if someone was a citizen, all Alfred would have to do was look at him. It was an ability that all nations had- they were able to tell if a person was one of theirs just by looking at them. It tripped some sort of switch in the nation's brain, letting them know if this person was one of their citizens. It was very useful during wartime- it had served Alfred very well during the Revolutionary War, when there were random British citizens all over the place, some of whom tried to blend in with the colonists.

So when Barack Obama was elected President, Alfred could not figure out why there were so many people who seemed convinced that he wasn't a real American citizen. "I would be able to tell!" he complained one day, after being dragged into a meeting with Orly Taitz, a woman who launched litigation against the government to try to prove that Obama was not actually an American citizen. "Do they really think I'm stupid? Do they honestly think I wouldn't notice if some random non-American tried to become the President? Why do you think I have to meet with everyone who wants to run for office?"

"They think you're in on the conspiracy," Joe Biden explained. "Remember what happened at Glenn Beck's rally? They think we've brainwashed you."

"This is ridiculous," Alfred sighed, setting down his coffee mug. "And it's taking valuable time away from things that really matter, like catching the terrorists! How are we supposed to catch any terrorists if the people think the President isn't really eligible to be the President?"

Yes, Alfred was frustrated. He had more important things to worry about than try to convince his citizens that their president was actually legitimate. But people kept clamoring for the President to show his birth certificate, something that Alfred knew was a stupid idea. "Don't they know anything about identity theft?" he groused after getting one particularly virulent email accusing him of being an impostor, since he hadn't managed to get Obama to show his birth certificate. "Putting out personal information like that is a good way to open yourself up to identity theft! Even I know that!"

"Those would be some really stupid identity thieves," Nancy Pelosi snorted. "Who would honestly believe that some random guy trying to buy a yacht was actually the President of the United States?"

"Don't underestimate the power of stupidity," Joe Biden sighed.

"I just wish there was something we could do..." Obama let his voice trail off. "This is causing more problems than it's worth! How are we supposed to focus on anything important if people are so hell-bent on trying to prove that I'm not actually an American citizen!"

Alfred stayed silent. He had an idea, but he wasn't sure how well it would be received. After all, it _was_ sort of bowing to the demands of the conspiracy theorists. But if all it would take to shut them up was a birth certificate, then why didn't they just release it, with information that could lead to identity theft blocked off (although he did have to agree with Pelosi- anyone who tried to steal the identity of the President of the United States was profoundly moronic). Still, he could understand why the others might take exception to it. It definitely wasn't his first choice of action, but at this point, Alfred was pretty sure that God Almighty himself could come down from heaven and tell the American people that the President actually was eligible to be the President, and they wouldn't believe him.

And he wasn't under any delusions- Alfred knew that the majority of his citizens believed that even though they might not agree with him, Obama actually was an American. But it was a small, but vocal minority of conspiracy theorists that maintained the idea, and kept it in the public eye. Even Donald freakin' Trump had jumped on the "birther" bandwagon. And more than anything, he just _really_ didn't want to have to sit through another meeting with Orly Taitz. The woman was nuts.

"I... might have an idea..." he said hesitantly. Obama sighed.

"Let's hear it, then, Alfred."

"What if you _did_ release the birth certificate? It won't solve the problem overnight, but if it's available, then maybe people will start to realize that they can't keep ignoring the truth forever."

"He shouldn't have to do that in the first place!" Pelosi exclaimed, outraged. "Why would you even suggest that?"

"No, he's right," Obama interrupted. "It won't stop the most dedicated birthers, but at least if the information is out there, then they won't be able to bring anyone new to their side, and it will get harder and harder for them to ignore the facts when they're staring them in the face."

"I'm not saying that it's a good thing that this has to happen, but you can't deny that this is taking away from the more important issues our country is facing," Alfred said. "You know, though, this isn't the first time something stupid has detracted from the important issues of our country. Usually we solved it by proving the detractors wrong."

Pelosi had nothing to say to that. He was right. This was a distraction from the more important issues of the day.

Two days later, Obama released his long-form birth certificate, giving a speech about how he hoped this would stop the conspiracies, and that everyone would be able to focus on the really important issues.

To Be Continued

Author's Comments:

Yeah, I know it's taken me a while to get this done, but honestly? Apparently I've been forcing "right-wing bullcrap" on my readers. Huh. And here I thought I was a civil libertarian, not a right-winger. I mean, obviously I'm human, and it's natural for some of my own bias to creep in, but I've also been trying very hard to keep this as neutral as possible. But I've been spending quite a bit of time re-reading through this whole thing, trying to figure out where the apparent right-wing bullcrap was, and I just can't find it.

To be honest with you guys, I've been trying to keep this neutral, but still funny. I don't try to avoid the more controversial issues, and I understand that sometimes my own beliefs might sneak in, no matter how much I try to keep that from happening. I want you all to know, though, that anything that does get past me is purely my opinion, and that you don't have to believe the same way that I do. But I want your opinion: is this story too right-wing? I don't think so, but then again, I wrote it.

-Kaboom


	28. Apocalypse Not!

**Warning: If you want to get technical about it, this chapter isn't exactly about political issues, as it were, but I have a feeling that this issue would have affected the country himself. And, as usual, I personally don't think that it is offensive, but it _does_ deal with the "apocalypse" that was supposed to happen yesterday. **

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Apocalypse Not!

May 5, 2011

"Alfred! Alfred!" Sealand yelled, running up to the older nation excitedly. "I heard that the world is going to end in a couple'a weeks! One of your citizens said so! What happens to us when the world ends? Uncle Lachlan told me that all the humans would die and the world would blow up, but he didn't know what would happen to us!" the boy exclaimed, referencing Scotland. Alfred sighed. In all honesty, Lachlan had probably been kidding, just messing around with the tiny nation, as he was wont to do, but of course, Sealand took him seriously. "And Dad says I'm being stupid, and Auntie Saorise told me that no one can know when the world is going to end, because it's not possible for humans or countries to know! But the guy who made the prediction is your citizen, right? That means you should know if it's true or not! So, what is it?"

"Uh... " was all Alfred managed to say for a while. Trying to parse the tiny nation's hyperactive ramblings was difficult on the best of days, but right now, this whole thing had gotten him worked up to a state of, well, basically incoherence. "Well, uh, Scotland was probably just teasing you. He doesn't mean you any harm, and Ireland is right- most human legends say that no one can know when the world will end."

"I _know_ that!" Sealand retorted, getting even more agitated. "But because the guy who made the prediction was one of your citizens, why can't you tell me whether or not the world is going to end!"

"You know we can't tell everything that every single one of our citizens thinks," Alfred continued. "And even if I can tell what they are thinking, I can't determine what led them to reach that conclusion. This man could think the world is going to end because he saw a black kitten walk in front of him. I wouldn't know. But don't worry about it. There have been predictions for the end of the world all the time, and we and all the humans are still here." Sealand nodded.

"I'm gonna go ask someone else," he stated determinedly. "Some help you were."

* * *

Alfred should have known better than to listen to the ramblings of the young nation. Sealand was over-excitable, everyone knew that, and he made a mental note to have words with both Lachlan and Saorise for working the small nation up into the frenzy that they did. Alfred knew they meant no harm, and were only trying to reassure him in their own way, but it obviously just made Sealand more paranoid than he'd been before.

And much to his own dismay, Alfred found that he couldn't stop thinking about the supposed end of the world, either. When he got back to D.C, he looked up the prediction on the Internet. A man named Harold Camping, who had already predicted the end of the world several times. Obviously, seeing as he still had a country full of people, they hadn't come true, but there was something still haunting about the way the prediction was worded. All believers would be wooshed up to heaven before the real apocalypse started. Somehow, Alfred found that almost as disturbing as the idea that the world was going to end. He'd seen enough of the disaster movies that came out of Hollywood to know that there would be survivors- obviously, how else were you supposed to have a post-apocalyptic world? But the idea that there would be lucky people able to avoid the whole thing- the apocalypse itself, the post-apocalyptic world and everything that came with it, and that it could all be avoided if you just believed... Alfred felt himself twitch internally, wondering if he should just buy into the whole craze, just to be on the safe side. But then he shook his head. He was being ridiculous.

Then, he started hearing about the reactions that his people were having. One woman quit her job and maxed out her credit cards, thinking that, hey, if the world ends, who's going to collect on the debt? Another man drove his entire family from New York to California so that they could camp outside of the radio station that Harold Camping worked at. A young couple quit their jobs and intended to spend the time until the end trying to warn people by walking around with signs.

It seemed as well that he wasn't the only one strangely unsettled by the predictions. Alfred found himself reassuring the First Daughters when they sought him out to ask much the same questions that Sealand had. "Do you know if the world is really going to end?"

"What would happen to you if the world ended? Would you still survive?" "What would happen to _us?_" A couple of nervous interns barged in, wanting reassurance as well, worried about what would happen to their jobs if they somehow managed to survive, and what would happen to Congress? Would they still be required to come into work if the apocalypse came? Alfred begged off those questions with the instruction to go to their immediate supervisors, not him, because the last time he'd given interns time off without asking someone else first, Bill Clinton refused to talk to him for three days, angry about the fact that his mistress had essentially been told by the country that she didn't have to come into work. Of course, at the time, Alfred had no idea why the president was so angry with him, but that all came to light eventually. He was disturbed.

"I can't tell you if the world will end on the 21st," Alfred replied, to both Sasha and Malia, and the interns. "I wouldn't know any more than you would. But I have lived through several failed apocalyptic predictions. I'm pretty sure it will be OK." But he sounded more confident than he felt. It was driving him crazy- he'd never been this nervous before. Maybe it was the preponderence of conspiracy theories on the Internet, or the fact that he had just watched _The Day After Tomorrow_ the other day with Kiku and Yong Soo. He just hoped that he was right.

May 21, 2011

The morning of the 21st dawned bright and warm in Washington DC. Alfred was very skittish the entire day, much to the consternation of Obama. "Are you sure you don't want to come to brunch?" he asked.

"No... I need to make sure everything is prepared!"

"Prepared?"

"You know... buildings reinforced, rivers sandbagged, people moved out of danger... stuff like that," Alfred explained, purposely being vague. Unfortunately for him, the president was able to figure out what he was talking about.

"Don't tell me you fell for that end of the world crap! You're _America! _You can't start thinking the world will end! Won't that _actually_ bring about the end? I know you get sick whenever there's a natural disaster!"

"No. It's the natural disasters that make me sick, not that the natural disasters happen _because_ I am sick," Alfred explained. Obama nodded, but still looked a bit miffed.

"Just don't get out of control... if the people find out that you're worried about it, it could cause a mass panic." Alfred understood where the other man was coming from. He remembered how he accidentally set off a wave of paranoia of nuclear war in the late 1950s, because he'd accidentally complained in public about how nervous he was getting that Ivan was gathering even more nukes. That... hadn't been the highlight of his life, and that was putting it lightly.

"I just want to make sure that the people will be safe," Alfred answered honestly. Obama's eyes softened.

"Don't be surprised if nothing happens."

The entire day, Alfred kept watch, waiting for anything out of the ordinary. Other than almost accidentally running over a wild turkey in his car, while he was patrolling a suburb of DC, nothing weird happened. He kept an eye on the clock, knowing that the world was supposed to end at 6:00 PM. He waited, and watched, and waited some more.

When the clock on his dashboard said 6:01 PM, he breathed a sigh of relief.

The apocalypse would have to wait until another time.

To Be Continued

Author's Comments:

This chapter was born of a conversation between one of my best friends and myself, about Harold Camping's predictions. He is Scottish, and requested that I put Scotland in here somewhere, so that's why there's a few random original countries in the first part.

Am I the only person who doesn't believe in these end of the world predictions, but when the time comes, I can't help but have this little nagging feeling in back of my mind, saying "what if the world _does_ end?" It's really stupid and irrational, and it drives me crazy. That's also partially where this chapter came from. But obviously, since I'm typing this right now, the world did not, in fact, end. Unless it actually and I'm typing this from the afterlife and I don't know it... kidding, kidding.

And I want to thank everyone who responded last chapter, I got some really good feedback. Thank you for pointing out my errors of neutrality (is that what it would be called?) and other problems I have with this. I will try to do better in the future.

-Kaboom


	29. Twitter Twits part 1

**Warning: Dicks. Dicks everywhere. Because it is just one chapter, the entirety of this story will be staying at its current rating. But this chapter probably could be rated R. I'm hoping that we're all mature enough to handle discussions of anatomy that half the world possesses without acting like sugar-high third-graders. This isn't really going to get more graphic than anything you'd learn in a middle-school health class, but still. It's pretty much a chapter about dicks. And Anthony Weiner, and Twitter, and hackers. But also dicks. **

**I will say this: this is probably the most potentially offensive chapter so far. I've tried to make it entertaining and light-hearted (by popular demand, please welcome Jon Stewart, Stephen Colbert, Anderson Cooper, and Rush Limbaugh), but the nature of this whole topic is so sketchy and just... sophomoric that avoiding everything that could be offensive was impossible. If you think you might be upset by this content, please skip this chapter. **

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Twitter Twits, part 1

Alfred loved the Internet. He liked Facebook, that way he was able to keep in touch with the other nations, his leaders, and the leaders of other nations. And although he'd never admit it to anyone, he was involved in a bit of a FarmVille war with Ivan- the first person to make it to level 90 won. He liked YouTube. There was nothing quite like watching that funny cat obsessed with boxes that lived in Japan... Maru, he thought his name was. He found fanfiction websites interesting, if sometimes a bit disturbing, especially the stuff that featured him in rather compromising positions. He'd be lying if he didn't enjoy quite a bit of it, though. He thought MapQuest was the most useful thing he'd ever come across for his trips to other countries. He checked IMDB whenever he watched a movie, that way he would be able to find the information on the actors and plotlines.

But there was one Internet service that had captured the attention of his politicians and the people as well- Twitter. The micro-blogging site at first had baffled Alfred. How the hell were you supposed to say anything of importance in 140 characters or less? It was just ridiculous. But as time went on, and the site exploded in popularity, Alfred finally broke down and decided to get his own Twitter feed. AlfredFJones was his username. Within a few hours he'd gotten almost as many followers as Charlie Sheen.

As with all technology, Alfred was well aware of the potential to abuse it. Twitter had been hacked multiple times, and sometimes people tweeted things they regretted later. But as far as that went, he really hoped that his politicians would be smart enough to not do anything incriminating. But considering the past track record that they seemed to have, he wasn't too optimistic. What were they teaching potential politicians in political science these days, anyway? Alfred thought first on the list would be "don't do anything stupid in public, especially stupid things that are hard to erase, like on the Internet."

Even though he should have been prepared to see his politicians screw up in epic proportions, Alfred certainly wasn't expecting this one. Anthony Weiner, a Congressman from New York, apparently Tweeted a picture of his... rooster... to a college student he had been following on the micro-blogging site. While the penis in question was covered by a pair of boxer shorts, it was still quite obviously rather tumescent, the outline of it clearly visible through the thin cloth. Weiner maintained that he had been hacked by a rather childish, perverted hacker, but he wasn't able to deny whether or not the picture was actually of him or not. Of course, given the nature of the scandal, and not to mention the fact that the Congressman's surname sounded like a childish euphemism for male genitalia, well, of course everyone went nuts. Even more awkward for Alfred was the fact that the very next day was his bi-annual meeting with media figures. And of course, they were cracking more dick jokes than drunk first-year college students at a frat party.

"This whole thing is so _hard to swallow,"_ Rush Limbaugh snorted, taking a sip of coffee. "What was he thinking? 'Oh yeah, I'll just be able to tweet a picture of my dick to some girl without any consequences? Did he forget he's a politician and that the media- like me- watches everything he does?"

"Twitter isn't private! What did he think he was doing?" Glenn Beck snickered through a mouthful of donut. "I mean, Rush is right. If he was _smart,_ he would have emailed it, not sent it through Twitter, where the entire Internet can see it! Although, what do you expect from a Democrat?"

"Be nice," Jon Stewart admonished. "The Republicans aren't exactly scandal immune, or did you forget about Airplane Bathroom Guy?"

"But at least he didn't tweet a co-ed a picture of his dick!" Limbaugh interrupted.

"Well, this is certainly going to _erect _a couple of problems for his mayoral run in 2013," Stephen Colbert deadpanned, causing almost everyone present to snort through their noses. "No, seriously, I mean, this is going to be_come_ a serious stumbling block for his campaign!"

"Oh come on," Anderson Cooper interrupted (although he was struggling not to crack a smile). "He says it was a hacker. They've been active lately- didn't you all hear about what they did to PBS? Hackers hack things every day."

"Brilliant insight, Cooper," Glenn Beck retorted. "'Hackers hack things.' No shit, Sherlock!"

"Guys... can we move on with the meeting?" Alfred asked, hoping that they would be able to get into the really important part of the meeting: he needed to tell them that they all needed to double-check their facts, to avoid things like the "palm trees in Wisconsin" incident. But everyone ignored him.

"What do you think, Alfred?" Stewart asked.

"Well... I don't really want to say anything," Alfred replied. "In case I'm wrong, but I know Anthony Weiner. He doesn't seem the type to carelessly tweet an incriminating picture to anyone. He actually came across as a rather nice guy. But at the same time, it wasn't too long ago that we had another Congressman from New York resign because he sent a topless picture of himself out. I honestly don't know. But he says he didn't do it, and the girl who received the image says she thought it was a hacker as well."

"Even so, am I the only one that thinks it's hilarious that this happened to a guy whose surname was _Weiner?_" Colbert laughed. "I mean, come on, how is that not hilarious?"

"You have the mentality of a kindergartener," Limbaugh shook his head.

"And you don't?"

"That's what makes me think it was a hacker," Anderson Cooper added. "I mean, it's just too coincidental."

"As much as I hate to admit it, he has a point," Glenn Beck agreed. "I mean, if I wanted to tweet something to someone, and my last name was Weiner, I wouldn't... well, tweet _that." _

"How is it pronounced, anyway?" Jon Stewart muttered.

Once Alfred finally managed to calm his media friends down enough to start the meeting, they had all but forgotten what they were supposed to talk about.

* * *

"I swear I didn't do it!" Anthony Weiner yelled at Alfred, after being called into his office. "I didn't do it! I don't know if it's actually a picture of me or not, but I know I didn't tweet that picture!"

"Why would you even have a picture of your junk on your phone?" Alfred asked increduloulsy. "That's your government-issued BlackBerry!"

"It WASN'T on my BlackBerry! It was just a stupid picture, anyway! No one was supposed to see it!"

"I believe you," Alfred said. "And I spoke to the woman who got the picture as well- she says she believes it was a hacker as well. No action will be taken at this time, but you might want to keep a better lock on your Twitter. Don't let the interns tweet for you, and change your password. You should probably make sure your computer itself is protected, too. And just because I say this doesn't mean that other people won't start questioning you. I hope you're prepared for that."

"Yes, I understand."

"Don't worry about it too much," Alfred added. "You're not the first politician to be involved in a scandal. We have one at least once a week! People will eventually forget about it."

To Be Continued

Author's Comments:

OK, to be totally up front with you all: I had never heard of Anthony Weiner before yesterday afternoon, when the story popped up in my newsfeed on my Droid. So I did a lot of research on this whole thing. I don't believe that he was responsible for the tweet, and it seems that almost everyone who isn't Andrew Breitbart is in agreement.

I just wanted to make some stupid dick jokes, OK? But this isn't the only Twitter scandal to happen in recent times, so there's going to be another chapter on this. Also, lots of readers requested Jon Stewart, Stephen Colbert, and Rush Limbaugh to be introduced, and this seemed as good a chapter as any to do it, because you all know they'd include some of these jokes in their program (Limbaugh already did- go to YouTube and search for "rush limbaugh anthony weiner twitter." My friend kept sending me the links).

The next chapter will not be as potentially offensive, I promise.

-Kaboom


	30. Twitter Twits part 2

**Warning: Well, so much for making this chapter less offensive than the last one... considering how that story ended up playing out, you can bet that here be more dicks. And I was planning on having a nice, polite fic here. Stupid politicians. **

Chapter Thirty: Twitter Twits, part 2

To say he was disappointed would be an understatement. In his 235 years of history, politicians had lied to him repeatedly, to further their own interests or to cover up their own wrongdoing. But in all of those cases, the truth had eventually come out, and the same could be said about the Anthony Weiner Twitter scandal. At that particular moment, a disgraced Weiner stood in Alfred's office, purposely looking anywhere but his country. "Did you honestly think I wouldn't find out?" Alfred asked calmly, keeping his gaze on the Congressman. "And more importantly, did you honestly think that the people wouldn't find out? They're not stupid. And with that half-assed way you tried to hide your actions, it only made everyone more suspicious."

"You don't understand!" Weiner exclaimed.

"Oh no, I understand perfectly," Alfred replied. "You decided you'd have a bit of fun and tweet your dick to some random women. And I've seen the text messages and chat logs- don't try to cover your ass by telling me that nothing happened physically. I know that if they had been in the room with you that it would have gone farther."

"But I didn't mean to send that picture to that college student! It was meant for someone else! You know, that porn star!" the congressman replied heatedly. "She ought to be used to seeing dicks!"

"That's not the point and you know it," Alfred sighed. "What about your wife? You haven't even been married for a year! AND she's pregnant!"

"And now the whole world knows," Weiner muttered under his breath. "We were planning on keeping it a secret for a while longer."

"And you lost that chance when you decided to plaster your penis all over the Internet!" Alfred exclaimed. "I'm saying this as your nation- what you did was wrong, and if it was up to me, you would resign your position immediately. But the ultimate decision is up to your constituents. If they want you gone, then you _will_ gracefully exit and not say anything else about it- do you understand me?" Anthony Weiner shivered. He'd never seen Alfred this deadly serious before- usually, he was joking around and snarfing burgers like they were going to be made illegal tomorrow, and it was always easy for him to forget that the man sitting in front of him was the embodiment of his nation. But now, there was no mistaking the authority present in Alfred's eyes and voice, and he knew that if provoked, it would be all too easy for Alfred to completely ruin his political career.. Not that he thought the nation would do such a thing, but still...

"I understand," he said quietly. Alfred sighed.

"I hope you do. I don't think you understand how much of a mess you've created. Not just for yourself, but for your fellow congressmen. You also owe the people an apology," he said shortly. "And you had best go find Nancy Pelosi, I think she wants to yell at you and she's been taking it out on _me._"

"Yes, of course," Weiner said quickly, backing out of Alfred's office quickly. The nation shook his head once the man was gone, wishing to high heaven that his politicians would grow a brain now and then. So many stupid incidents...

A few days later, Alfred was trying to enjoy a cup of coffee when Stephen Colbert burst into his office. "Don't you know how to knock!" a surprised Alfred groused, sloshing coffee all over himself. Colbert, however, either didn't notice or didn't care, and immediately launched into rapid-fire speech.

"I totally called it!" he yelled excitedly. "Jon owes me a round of drinks tonight, and you're invited! He'll pay for you too, don't worry! He'll have to, he has to do everything I say today! Because I totally called it!"

"Stephen, I have no idea what you're talking about," Alfred replied.

"Weiner's wiener!" the excitable parody pundit exclaimed. "Jon and I had a bet- he didn't believe the pictures were really of him, I did. Whoever turned out to be right had to everything the other one said for an entire 24-hour period! And I was right! The pictures actually were of Weiner! So now Jon's taking everyone out for drinks tonight! Won't you come? Anderson and Glenn are going too, and we're trying to figure out if Rush will go, and I emailed Rachel Maddow and Keith Olbermann too! Won't you come? It's going to be so awesome!"

"I'm sure it will be," Alfred replied. "But Stephen, you know that Anthony Weiner is still one of my citizens too, and a member of my government. I don't feel right about celebrating the end of his political career."

"Fine," Colbert groused. "But what are you going to do about the damage he's caused? There's a lot of people angry out there, calling for tighter restrictions on the Internet usage of the politicians."

"Oh for crying out loud!" Alfred buried his head in his hands. "What do they want me to do, call the telecom companies and tell them to cut off Internet access to every single member of Congress? Yeah, I'm sure that will go over well. When are people going to learn that no one is responsible for their behavior except for their own damn self? I can't control what any random person does any more than you can! That's why we have laws and stuff! If you break them, then you face the consequences. But no one chooses to make you break the law other than your own self!" Alfred was ranting now, and he didn't even care. "So what, are we just supposed to not let anyone have anything in case they do something stupid? What else do they expect me to do?"

"I know, Alfred, I know," Colbert replied, serious for once. "And most everyone else knows that too. It's only a few people who know deep down, that they can't handle the responsibility of behaving like grown-ass adults. Don't worry about it- you'll be fine. In fact, you might get a few people who want to see _your_ dong, since everyone else is doing it!"

"Stephen!" Alfred exclaimed, flushing red. "I already told Glenn that I was not going to be the spokesperson for his freaking patriotic underwear! Why would I tweet my dick to the people!"

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding, sheesh," the comedy pundit replied, although he was grinning. Alfred couldn't help but grin along with him.

The whole situation was just too ridiculous.

To Be Continued

Author's Comments:

Well. I had planned to do this chapter on some of the other Twitter scandals, but then two days after I posted the last chapter, the truth came out that the, uh, wiener in question actually did belong to Anthony Weiner. Which kind of changed things. I can't say I'm overly fond of this chapter, I really couldn't think of a good way to continue it past Weiner leaving Alfred's office, but that would have made for a ridiculously short chapter, so I added Colbert back in. Ah well.

I usually don't do this sort of thing, but on Monday I'm planning on posting a special holiday tie-in to this story, _Alfred's Big Bipartisan Birthday Party,_ featuring everyone's favorite politicians and pundits, TRYING to get along long enough to celebrate the 235th birthday of our great nation. It was originally going to be another chapter to this story, but it's kind of evolved beyond that, so now it's going to be it's own story. Please look out for it on Monday! And Happy Independence Day, everyone!

-Kaboom


	31. Shaky Shaky

Chapter Thirty-One: Shaky Shaky

August 23, 2011

Alfred woke up that day around 1:00 in the afternoon, feeling rather queasy. He supposed he'd drank too much the previous night (he and Ivan had somehow found themselves embroiled in yet another "who can drink the most sake" contest at Kiku's house), and eaten too much the previous night (It definitely wasn't as good as burgers, but Kiku's okonomiyaki was amazingly delicious), and played too much DDR the previous night. He seriously had to stop going to "Monday Night Madness" hosted at a different nation's house every week. The week before he'd ended up binging on beer and bratwurst at Germany's place and spent the next day complaining of horrible stomach cramps. All in all, he'd begun to learn that partying in moderation was almost impossible when the other nations were hanging around, egging him on.

This felt different, though- almost like there was going to be an earthquake. If he was in California and there was going to be an earthquake, about an hour beforehand he would start to feel kind of nauseous and shaky. But that was ridiculous- he was in Washington D.C! While it wasn't unheard of for earthquakes to occur here, it was exceedingly rare. Besides, he was probably just so hungover that he was misinterpreting the aftereffects of one particularly ridiculous bender as earthquake warning signs. It just didn't make sense!

Shuffling tiredly to the bedside where he kept his cell phone, he flipped it open and looked at his missed calls. One from the President, one from Kiku, and fifteen from Michele Bachmann (the congresswoman had taken to blowing up his phone at all hours looking for presidential run tips, which Alfred was unwilling to give out- seriously, why would he give campaign tips to someone? That was just bad form all around). It also seemed that Glenn Beck had butt-texted him, seeing as the message just read "uHwe3sds ,dfsdio." He was just about to send the pundit back a message asking him what the hell he'd meant, when the building started shaking.

"Oh my god," Alfred breathed, immediately fearing the worst. Had a bomb gone off? Were his citizens OK? Oh holy shit, what if it contained radioactive materials? They'd have to evacuate DC! But he didn't feel any citizens being torn away from his consciousness, like he would if there had been a terrorist attack or a violent explosion. And the more he thought about it, the more it seemed like a normal (well, normal for California or other places on the West Coast) earthquake. By then, the shaking had stopped and Alfred glanced around his room. The picture of him and England at Disney World wearing Mickey Mouse hats had fallen off the wall, but other than that, there was no damage. So he decided to go downstairs to the lobby of his apartment building and figure out what the heck was going on.

"WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!" a middle-aged woman screamed, running around the lobby like a chicken with its head cut off. "IT'S THE END TIMES! THE RAPTURE IS HERE AND I'VE BEEN LEFT BEHIND!"

"Mom, calm down, you're making a scene," her rather embarrassed teenage son muttered, tugging on his hysterical mother's arms.

"Was... was that an _earthquake?_" a young woman with her arms full of grocery bags asked. "What the hell?"

"IT'S THE COMMUNISTS! I ALWAYS KNEW THEY WERE GOING TO ATTACK!" an elderly man hollered, waving his walking stick like a sword. "Let them come! I'll kick their asses! I know how! The war ended before I could go kick any Communist ass!"

"Communists? No, it's the North Koreans!" a younger man retorted.

"They're communists too, moron!" the elderly man shot back.

"Everybody calm down!" Alfred yelled. "It's not the end times and it's not communists. It was an earthquake."

"I _told _you so," the grocery-carrying woman said to no one in particular. The two men exchanged meaningful glances with each other.

"What if the communists caused the earthquake?" the younger one asked. Alfred wanted to bang his head against the wall. He hadn't heard anything this ridiculous since the height of McCarthyism. Communists indeed. What were they now, magical communists with seismic powers? Considering what he knew of Im Hyun Soo, North Korea, he highly doubted that the paranoid reclusive country would be technologically advanced enough to manufacture earthquakes.

But it seemed that the people were happier to come up with ridiculous conspiracy theories as to what had caused the earthquake. Alfred decided that enough was enough, and that he'd better contact the president. After all, he needed to make sure that the important government buildings were still structurally sound.

To Be Continued

Author's Comments:

No, I'm not dead, I've just been extremely busy. University started back up, and when I'm not in class it seems like I'm either studying or at work, and when I come home I'm too tired to do much of anything except take a shower and go to bed. While I'm hoping to update faster, I also wouldn't expect a new chapter until mid-September at the earliest. I'm also sorry this chapter is so short, but I honestly wasn't sure what to write about, and as it is I'm feeling rather poorly at the moment, and didn't want to get into a huge thing. Next chapter will be better, I promise.

As for the earthquake, apparently it was felt as far south as South Carolina, and as far north as up into Canada. I live in the D.C. area, so I felt it pretty strongly. I was at work at the time, and although I was OK, the customers were freaking out. A few of them thought we were feeling shockwaves from a bomb or something, and that there was a terrorist attack happening. Nope. Just an earthquake, albeit a very weird one. Because we very rarely get earthquakes here. I've lived here for a long time and there were two others that I can remember, and they were a lot less intense than this one.

So, did anyone else feel it?

-Kaboom


	32. Meet the Republicans, part 1

**Warnings: Uh... Republicans? I don't know, I don't think this chapter is very offensive, honestly, although it does deal with the Republican presidential primaries and all that goes with them, so... **

Chapter Thirty-Two: Meet the Republicans, part 1

Alfred trudged back to his apartment in DC after meeting with the Republican presidential candidates. Deciding that it would be a good idea to streamline the process, Alfred decided to consolidate the meetings with each candidate into one big conference, thinking that it would make the process go a lot faster. And while it did make the process go a lot faster, it also made it ten times crazier.

Every primary season, Alfred made it a point to get to know everyone who was running for the office of president, so that he could have a better idea of who would do what if they did end up winning. It wasn't a partisan thing at all- Alfred did his best to be on good terms with the leaders of his government, it was just good form. While it had always been a bit of a crapshoot as to who he would actually get along with (Alfred had never gotten on too well with Andrew Jackson, for example), generally, he respected his bosses. And it was usually easier for him to do that when he knew something about them.

That evening, he'd set out for the burger joint, ready to meet the individuals who wanted to become his next boss. He'd already met some of them before- Newt Gingrich, of course, had been the Speaker of the House before Nancy Pelosi, and he'd always gotten along fairly well with him, despite the other man's supposed moral failings. Alfred also knew Mitt Romney pretty well, seeing as he'd run for president before, as had Ron Paul. Paul might have been a bit nutty, but Alfred was sure his heart was in the right place.

That left Herman Cain, Michelle Bachmann, Rick Santorum, and Jon Huntsman. Alfred had met Santorum before, and to be honest, found him insufferable. The large man was constantly bloviating on about how his Christian faith drove his policy decisions and how it made him a Real American (Alfred begged to differ, firmly believing that one could be a true American no matter what their religion or sexual orientation was). But, who knew? Maybe in the sixteen months since Alfred had last dealt with him, Santorum would have grown up a bit and learned something.

As for Jon Huntsman, Alfred vaguely knew who he was- he'd been an ambassador to Singapore and China, and he'd served as the governor of Utah, but honestly? Yao and Vijay probably knew the man better than he did. That left Michelle Bachmann and Herman Cain.

Alfred had met Michelle Bachmann once, on the day she was inducted into Congress. He'd said the customary congratulations, and then the press had mobbed the woman, so he left her alone. He had followed her policy decisions in the news, and she was pretty much Republican through and through. That was fine, she was a Republican, after all. But there were a few other whisperings that gave Alfred pause. First of all, the school district in her home base had been labeled a suicide contagion zone by the government, after a spate of high school students took their own lives. Reports showed that many of the deceased had been bullied, and that Bachmann had opposed legislation to curb the occurrences. Also disturbing to Alfred were her ties to Dominionism, a faction of Christianity that literally supported world domination. It would not look good to the rest of the world if Alfred's boss _literally wanted to take over the world. _With that disturbing news in mind, Alfred made a mental note to watch out for her, and really find out what she thought. Did she _honestly_ think that by opposing anti-bullying legislation she'd be able to bring students back to the "side of right?" And what the heck was up with that world domination rhetoric?

Then, there was Herman Cain. Alfred knew exactly one thing about him: he was the former CEO of Godfather's Pizza. He knew absolutely nothing about the other man's policies, what he thought he could do to help the people, and what to do about the economy. Unless it had something to do with pizza, Alfred couldn't even begin to figure it out.

Anyway, that evening, he had gone to the restaurant to find the candidates waiting there for him. "Alfred! My man! Good to see you!" Ron Paul exclaimed, vigorously shaking Alfred's hand. "How have you been? You haven't been sick because of the economy, have you?"

"It's nice to see you too, Ron," Alfred greeted back. "And no, I've been feeling OK, other than the occasional headache."

"That's great to hear! Anyway, I've got some new proposals I want to go over with you, if that's OK? Of course, we'll have dinner first," the other man continued. Alfred fought back a grimace. It wasn't that he didn't want to see Paul's ideas, he just had more pressing things to deal with... like meeting the other candidates.

"I'll tell you what," he said, finally. "Just email them to me, I'll go over them when I have the time and send you my thoughts."

"That works," Paul replied, going back to perusing the menu. Alfred smiled a bit, shaking his head. Good old Ron Paul. He never changed. Next, he turned his attention to Newt Gingrich.

"Pelosi didn't squash you, I hope?" was what he got by way of a greeting. "I've always said that woman was too clingy! I remember telling McCain last year- 'I really hope Pelosi doesn't squash Alfred!'"

"Hi Newt," Alfred replied, rolling his eyes. "Are you still pissed about that? I thought you were over losing your position to Pelosi."

"And I am, I was just checking up on you!" Newt answered. "She didn't cause problems when she lost out that seat to Boehner, did she?"

"No," Alfred replied sternly, really hoping Newt would get off this tack soon. He didn't come here to talk about Nancy Pelosi, he came here to discuss the election! Besides, he didn't think the former Madam Speaker would appreciate being talked about by her predecessor.

"Well, that's good! But hey, are you ready to win this election!" the other man switched gears. "January 2013, I'm moving into the White House, bro!"

"Well, we'll see," Alfred replied. Newt grinned at him.

"Oh, you know it, but I know you've got to be all polite and stuff. Don't worry, I understand!"

After distracting the former Speaker of the House with the drinks menu, Alfred turned and greeted both Mitt Romney and Jon Huntsman. "Nice to see you two again," he said. Romney inclined his head politely, before taking a slug of his herbal tea, and Huntsman smiled back.

"How's Yao doing?" he asked. "You probably hear from him more than I do now."

"He says hi," Alfred replied, remembering a conversation he'd had with the other nation not too long ago. "As well as good luck."

"Yeah, well, we're going to need it," the former ambassador sighed, dropping his voice. "Have you even _seen_ these lunatics? None of them are taking this seriously enough!" Alfred laughed nervously, hoping no one had overheard. It would look bad if he was seen trash-talking the other candidates with one of them... he was supposed to be impartial. Luckily, it seemed like none of the other men had heard, as Gingrich was currently making fun of Romney for drinking herb tea instead of whiskey or a cocktail.

"Seriously? This is the guy we're up against? He can't even drink a beer!"

"I choose to abstain from alcohol for religious reasons, Newt, you know that," Romney replied through gritted teeth. Gingrich just shrugged.

"Sure, whatever you say..."

"Hey, has anyone seen Cain or Bachmann yet?" Ron Paul interrupted.

"Nope," everyone said in chorus.

"I'M HERE!" a female voice called almost immediately after. The group turned around to see Michelle Bachmann clomping into the restaurant. "Darned shoes, I thought I left the house wearing black shoes, but when I looked down I realized I had one brown shoe and one black shoe on!"

"Ah, don't worry about it," Ron Paul replied breezily, waving his hand around nonchalantly. "Happens to the best of us."

"Yeah, if the best of us are completely insane," Gingrich muttered under his breath, getting a smirk in response from Romney and Huntsman. Bachmann, however, pretended not to notice them as she strode up to Alfred.

"Arnold! So good to see you again!" she exclaimed. Alfred sat stock-still for a moment, processing. Finally, he managed to stammer out:

"A-arnold?" at the same time that Gingrich laughed uproariously.

"Arnold? Who the hell is Arnold? Schwarzenegger? What's he doing here?" Bachmann immediately blushed.

"I'm sorry, _Alfred_" she corrected herself. "It's the jet-lag, you know..."

"It's fine," Alfred replied calmly. "It happens to the best of us. I know I've forgotten where I was when I've had to travel around the country before..."

Bachmann probably would have said something else, but the door banged open again and a different voice hollered- "WHO WANTS PIZZA?" Seconds later, Herman Cain appeared in the restaurant, carrying a square package not unlike the one that pizza guys carry.

It was going to be a long night...

To Be Continued

Author's Comments:

No, I'm not dead. I've just been studying and going to class, and when I'm not doing that, I'm either at work or asleep. I've also had some writer's block, because I wasn't sure how to write anything for this fic without getting too partisan myself... honestly, everyone's full of crap, to put it bluntly. But what else is new in the world of politics?

Anyway, we're now into the Republican primary arc- and I'm actually kind of excited about writing this. These politicians are comedy gold. Again, I must reiterate that this is not meant to be offensive, just funny, and I hope that everything comes across as relatively all in good fun. Now that the semester is over, I'm hoping to be able to get back to writing!

EDIT 12.15.2011- Thank you to Seileach for the correction regarding Romney's hot chocolate. It has been changed to herbal tea.

-Kaboom


	33. Meet the Republicans, part 2

Chapter Thirty-Three: Meet the Republicans, part 2

For a moment, everyone sat frozen to their seats, all thinking more or less the same thing: "did he really just do that?" Finally, Newt Gingrich spoke up, his voice infused with disbelief. "Are... are you serious? Dude, you don't just bring food from another restaurant into another one! What is _wrong_ with you? You used to be the CEO of a restaurant chain, you of all people ought to know that!"

"Oh, come on, Newt," Cain replied breezily. "One of us is going to be the next President! Who cares if we bring random food wherever we want?"

"It sets a bad example and makes it look like we're a bunch of an elitist assholes! That's the problem! We're supposed to be the political party of the regular Americans!" Mitt Romney continued where Gingrich had left off. "This is the kind of stuff you'd expect the liberals to do- 'oh, you expect me to eat _that? _No, that won't do, I only eat Russian caviar on top of foie gras and watercress sandwiches!' or something!"

"What the heck is foie gras?" Bachmann asked curiously.

"Pureed duck liver," Jon Huntsman explained. The Congresswoman made a face.

"Ew."

"It's considered a delicacy in some countries," the former ambassador replied. Alfred resisted the urge to bury his head in his hands. This was ridiculous- why were all of his politicians so _crazy? _And what was Cain thinking, with that pizza? The restaurant they were in served pizza as it was, it wasn't like he was craving pizza and there was no way for him to get what him wanted. Suddenly feeling a migraine coming on, he signaled to the waiter, who approached, although reluctantly. Alfred noticed he was shooting a very nasty glare at the pizza.

"Can I help you?" the waiter asked.

"Give me seven of your most expensive cocktail," Alfred said. "Add it to the bill."

"Seven absinthtinis coming right up," the waiter said.

"Oh wait, I forgot, Romney can't have alcohol," Alfred said quickly. "Make it six absinthtinis and one of your most expensive non-alcoholic drinks." The waiter nodded.

"I'll bring them right over, sir."

Once the waiter had taken the drink order, Alfred looked over at his cluster of politicians, all who were still arguing about the pizza.

"I thought you were a libertarian!" Cain was currently yelling at Ron Paul. "Why CAN'T I bring my pizza wherever I want, if you're all about liberty?"

"Because, you idiot, stores and shit have the right to refuse service to you for whatever reason they choose! And bringing your stupid pizza into their store is one of those reasons!" Newt was yelling, while Ron Paul looked like he'd rather be anywhere but there, and started picking at his basket of onion rings. Over on the other side of the table, it appeared that Michelle Bachmann and Mitt Romney had gotten involved in an argument. Alfred listened closer, and promptly wanted to bang his head on the table.

"I keep telling you, Bachmann, we are the same religion! I'm Christian, you're Christian, and for the last damn time I am not in a cult!"

"YOU ARE NOT A TRUE CHRISTIAN!" the Congresswoman was hollering at the top of her voice. "You are so in a cult! Don't worry though, when the Lord returns every knee will bow and every tongue will confess him as Lord, you'll learn then." Romney looked as though he wanted to whack her upside the head with something very heavy.

"I already believe in the same god that you do, Madam Bachmann!" he exclaimed. "And besides, my personal beliefs are neither here nor there, and I've already spent this entire evening listening to Newt give me shit about not drinking alcohol, so kindly shut up. Or stick a corn-dog in it, I saw those photographs. Do something useful for once."

"Why you-!" Bachmann sputtered in rage, while Romney just smirked. Alfred winced- that was a low blow. Those photographs were... awkward to say the least, and he himself had ended up listening to Ivan teasing him about how his politicians sure were good at, uh, "eating hot-dogs" for a week until he'd finally gotten bored of it. Jon Huntsman just chugged his beer, as though he couldn't believe how dumb his fellow politicians were and like he'd rather be back on the campaign trail than stuck with this bunch.

All of a sudden, Mitt Romney froze, ceasing his insults towards Bachmann. "Wait a minute... aren't we missing someone?"

"Hmmm, nope, we've got Cain, Bachmann, you, Huntsman, Santorum, Alfred, and me," Ron Paul replied, doing a quick headcount. "Who else is there?" As soon as he finished talking, all of the blood drained from Rick Santorum's face.

"Oh no... we forgot to invite Rick Perry!"

"No we didn't," Jon Huntsman said quickly. "He just texted me saying he was going to be here shortly."

"OH GOD NO!" Gingrich howled, slamming his head down on the table. "If I have to listen to his stupid Yosemite Sam voice tonight I'm dropping out of the race right now!"

"Good, less competition for me," a very distinctive voice with an even more distinctive Texas twang sounded from behind. "You'd make a lousy president anyway."

"Oh shut up, Perry," Gingrich snorted. "Just sit down and let's get this stupid meeting over with. I want to go back to my hotel room. The television has the home shopping network!"

"Yeah, you going to run up a huge tab again?" Bachmann snorted. "I remember that Tiffany's scandal- you really think the average American is going to want to vote for some guy who had a six-figure debt to a jewelry-maker?"

"First of all, that wasn't a jewelry tab! I was buying lamps and glasses and stuff for my house! Secondly, no one would have known anything about that if _someone _hadn't been too loose-lipped about it."

"Hey, you can't prove it was me that leaked that story to the press!"

"No, but you'd better watch yourself... how do you think people would take it if I told the media you want to take over the world," Gingrich replied, smirking slightly. "They'd probably be all, 'Oh Newt, you're so stupid, Bachmann isn't a super-villianess,' but all it would take is some of your church's literature to hit the Internet. Hey Alfred, is that Wikileaks dude still releasing documents?"

"Uh..." Alfred said slowly, having difficulty keeping up with the conversation. "I don't think so, I think the credit card companies froze his accounts so that he can't pay for the website anymore. Why do you ask? I thought you thought he was a terrorist."

"Oh, he is," Gingrich replied, "but someone's gotta tell the truth about this crazy woman's beliefs, better to use someone who's already known for releasing confidential information than me doing it myself."

"This is just stupid!" Huntsman finally exploded. "Why are we even arguing about this? This is _supposed_ to be a meeting about what we'd each do if we became the president, not an argument over who is or is not going to take over the world and pizza! And how did an illegal website even end up in this conversation? Are you all high?"

"HIGH ON LIFE!" Ron Paul yelled, slamming down his cocktail glass.

"Mmmph mmfff fff!" Herman Cain said through a mouthful of pizza.

"What?"

"I said, he's right!" the former CEO exclaimed. "We _should_ get down to business!"

"So NOW you're the one who actually wants to talk politics? You're the one who started the argument in the first place with your stupid pizza!" Romney added.

Alfred knew he had to do something, and he had to do something quick, or he'd be there all night with these people. Usually he liked them well enough, but right now he sort of wanted to deport them all to Antarctica. In the back of his mind, he made a mental note- never give the Republicans alcohol when they are _supposed_ to be having a serious meeting about his future. And after this night? He wasn't so sure that he wanted _any_ of this lot as his boss. He knew campaigning brought out the worst in everyone, but this was just ridiculous. All he'd wanted to do was have his traditional pre-election meeting with the candidates, and they'd managed to turn the whole thing into something completely insane. But maybe now that Cain had said something, everyone would calm down and they'd be able to _really_ start the discussion.

Alas, this was not to be the case.

"Like you're one to be lecturing us!" Rick Santorum, who had been mercifully quiet throughout this whole debacle, spoke up. "Did you really think that none of us would ever find out about your sexual harassment lawsuits?"

"I've already said they were making it up!" Cain exclaimed defensively. "I am not running on that platform, I'm running to fix the economy!"

"Well, of course you're not running on a sexual harassment platform, no one in their right mind would elect someone who ran on a platform like that!" Santorum snorted. "But the truth is that no one is going to want to elect you, not with a past like that. You can't screw the interns and you can't cheat on your wife, not if you want to get elected in this country!"

"Wouldn't screwing the interns kind of count as cheating on your wife?" Ron Paul mused to no one in particular.

"Not helping, dude," Gingrich whispered to him. Cain swelled up, kind of like an angry puffer-fish.

"Who are you to lecture me about that, anyway, when you've got that Google problem?" he retorted. "At least my name doesn't mean something really gross!"

"THAT WASN'T MY FAULT! That stupid commentator started that whole thing back in the early 2000s, and Google is full of shit, they won't take down that damn website!" the other man yelled back. "_I_ wasn't the one to start that whole thing, you brought everything down on your own self."

"Maybe if you hadn't antagonized the Internet Generation you wouldn't have that problem," Cain said sagely, nodding his head.

"What does that even _mean?"_

"Guys, can we start the meeting? _Please?_" Alfred pleaded, wanting this just to be over. Any future meetings with the candidates would be conducted one-on-one after this experience. And there would definitely not be any free alcohol involved.

"Nah, I think we're good," Gingrich said. "I know everything I need to know about this lot. Now I can tailor my campaign perfectly!"

"Me too!"

"Me three!"

"Huh? Where'd the booze go?"

With that, the meeting adjourned, leaving Alfred with a $3,000 tab and less idea of what was going on in the campaign than he'd had when he started this meeting. All he could do was hope that they knew what they were doing, but to be honest, he wasn't optimistic.

To Be Continued

Author's Comments:

I really struggled with this chapter. I wanted to touch on the major issues surrounding each candidate, but I wasn't sure how to do that. Obviously individuals running for office are not going to want to talk about their failings, or what they had done wrong, not even in a group of their "own," so to speak. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a political campaign, so generally, politicians are very careful. So how was I going to deal with all of this stuff? From Newt's debt issues to the allegations of sexual harassment against Herman Cain, to Romney's Mormonism (I don't even know why that's an issue, since we have freedom of religion and whatnot, but apparently some people just can't parse the idea of a President who isn't their particular faction of Christianity), to Bachmann's Dominionism (which is more of an issue than Romney's Mormonism, since the basic of tenets of Dominionism literally include world domination, in order to bring about the End Times), to Santorum's "Google Problem" (if you don't know about it, uh... Google it, but be warned, it's not safe for work or school). None of these are really things that any sane politician would want to bring up in public, especially not around their rivals.

And then the answer came to me: a crazy drunken argument in the middle of a restaurant. Yeah, it's kind of a half-assed solution, but the alternative was dragging this whole thing out for another few chapters, which I didn't want to do, because that's boring. But I do like writing these guys, they're fun, so expect them coming back in their own chapters sometime in the future, between now and November. I will probably get more into the "issues" in those chapters.

Happy new year, by the way!

-Kaboom


	34. Who Moved My Internet?

**Warning: You know, I probably rewrote this damn thing a hundred times, trying to keep it neutral, and I realized that I just can't, because not only does the legislation that this chapter is about make a mockery of everything our Constitution stands for, it also has the ability to royally screw me (and every other person in the world- yes, THE WORLD) over. I am, of course, talking about SOPA and PIPA, which this chapter focuses on. I apologize in advance for my neutrality fail, and encourage everyone to read the author's comments at the end, where I'll go into more detail about why I oppose this insidious legislation. And on the off-chance any supporters of the legislation are reading this? I'd like to take this opportunity to invite you to go take a long walk off a short pier. :) **

Chapter Thirty-Four: Who Moved My Internet?

Very rarely did Alfred take a stand one way or another on legislation. It wasn't his place to do so, seeing as the people were supposed to govern themselves and whatnot, and they generally did an acceptable job of it. They didn't need him barging in and potentially making things worse. But there was one thing that was guaranteed to get Alfred's hackles up, and that was when anyone tried to strip away the rights of his people. It didn't matter if it was a foreign threat or a domestic threat: anyone that tried to take away his famed "liberty and justice for all" automatically got on his bad side. Censorship was one of those things- he had freedom of speech for a reason, damn it, and as long as that free speech wasn't threatening or inciting violence, one could say whatever they wanted!

Of course, by having that free speech, it also led to some awkward moments. Especially with the dawn of the Internet, conspiracy theories and pure, unbridled lunacy abounded. If Alfred had a dollar for every time he found something somewhat alarming online, he'd be able to buy the whole damn world. It also led to some ugly confrontations between differing groups of opinion. But all in all, Alfred liked free speech. It was certainly a damn sight better than the alternative.

But when he heard about this new legislation that his Congress was trying to force through, the Stop Online Piracy Act and the Protect Intellectual Property Act, he immediately felt warning bells going off in his head. Of course he understood the entertainment industry's desire to protect their work, but he also recollected their earlier attempts at doing so- attempts that resulted in things like the RIAA trying to sue a downloading service for more money than existed in the entire world, even if you took all the currency from every country ever and added it all up. Alfred remembered getting a very angry phone call from China, who hadn't gotten the whole story and thought that some of Alfred's citizens were literally going to come and take all of the money away. Then there was the whole incident with the same organization pressing charges against elementary school students for downloading music illegally. Yes, Alfred could understand the motivation behind it, wanting to protect their work, but even with the best of intentions (which Alfred doubted they had in the first place), there was such a thing as going too far.

But, by the same token, the Internet had a special talent for taking things and blowing them way out of proportion. Case in point: the blogosphere. All it took was one little misstep on the part of any celebrity, politician, or ordinary person who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time before the whole thing turned into a problem about forty times what it should be. Mustard on burgers, fake computer viruses, false death reports, or even just someone falling alseep in public could become huge in a matter of minutes. And certain segments of the Internet were not shy about picking up on certain kinds of legislation and hollering about it until the cows came home. And at first, it seemed as though the SOPA/PIPA thing was one of them.

"THEY'RE GOING TO TAKE AWAY THE INTERNET!" one hysterical left-wing blogger wrote. "The Right is going to use these laws to shut us down! We won't be able to voice dissent anymore, they'll just haul us off to prison for questioning their Dear Leader!"

Meanwhile, a right-wing blogger said much the same thing- "It's only a matter of time before the lefties realize that they could leverage this legislation and shut us down! You know, all we'd have to do is post one of those pictures of Pelosi making crazy faces like we do occasionally, claim we're infringing on their copyright, and then they'd shut us down!"

Even non-politically inclined individuals got into it- "Let's say that you take video of your three-year-old daughter dancing around to a Beyonce song on the radio and put it on Youtube," a popular parenting and child-raising blogger wrote. "You could be sent to prison for copyright infringement."

Alfred took it all as hyperbole, at least until he read the legislation for himself. And he was _horrified. _All of those bloggers were, well, not exactly right, but pretty damn close. With the way it was written, if the legislation passed, anyone who'd ever watched a Youtube video containing copyrighted material was now a criminal. Even worse, if the legislation passed, it would completely decimate the IT industry. In fact, Alfred learned that first-hand when he went to a nearby university to speak with some computer science and information technology students.

"What do I think of SOPA?" a third-year computer science student asked. "I'll tell you what I think of SOPA! It's complete horseshit! You know, I've been working towards this degree for three years now, but if it passes, I might as well just have tossed all that money down a rat hole and tried to count all the sand on the beach for all the good it will do me!" When Alfred asked him what he meant by that, he continued on: "Let's say I go to work for, like, Twitter or something," he explained. "And someone tweets a link to the Pirate Bay. Now not only would that user be a criminal, Twitter itself would be held responsible for the link being on their site. They would also get in trouble. Major tech companies aren't going to be able to afford to watch out for all of this and keep innovating! The industry will collapse! Seems stupid, doesn't it? SOPA is supposed to protect jobs, and I guess it would protect the, what, 4000 jobs in Hollywood? But to protect 4000 while cutting 20000- how does that make any sense?"

"It's complete bullshit!" a first-year game design major yelled, adjusting his glasses. "Piracy has been going on for decades, and has the video game industry collapsed? No, it's grown exponentially, because even if people do pirate the games, the quality isn't necessarily good, and if they like it enough, they'll go to buy it!"

"All this will do is get innocent people into trouble," a fourth-year information technology student said. "The pirates will just find a way around this, while people who just upload stupid videos of themselves singing along with some song will be branded as criminals."

"I see..." Alfred had said, before thanking the students he'd spoken with for their time.

"No problem dude," the game-design major had said. "If anyone can do anything to stop this, it's you! You're America! Land of the free, home of the brave, and everything!"

* * *

Unfortunately, it seemed as though the politicians' minds were set. "You have to withdraw support for this bill," Alfred urgently told a senator from Florida. "Not only is it unconstitutional, it's going to have adverse effects on the economy! I just got over having daily headaches from the recession! I'm not about to go back to that again!" But the senator just laughed at him.

"Alfred, stop being so melodramatic. Of course PIPA won't hurt the economy, the whole reason it's been proposed is to protect the economy!"

"Protecting a few thousand jobs by cutting tens of thousands of jobs? How does that make any sense?" Alfred countered.

"You've been on the Internet too much," the senator replied. "You like movies, don't you? Don't you want to be able to enjoy new movies for years to come?"

"Of course I do," Alfred said. "But not if it means taking away freedoms from my people!"

It seemed like the same conversation played out over and over again, no matter who Alfred talked to. Senators and representatives just didn't seem to get the fact that this legislation would be bad for the country- not even when the country himself was telling them so.

But, finally, one day in January of 2012, the Internet shut itself down for the day. Many sites, from blogs to commercial shopping websites to major pillars such as Wikipedia and Google either took themselves completely offline, or censored their own content voluntarily for a day. Eventually, the outcry from the public was so much that the politicians realized that supporting SOPA or PIPA was tantamount to political suicide, and the bills were shelved. But whether or not they would stay shelved... well, Alfred and America would just have to wait and see.

To Be Continued

Author's Comments:

Like I said up top, this is one issue that is impossible for me to stay neutral on. SOPA and PIPA are both unconstitutional, and not only are they a serious breach of privacy laws (as well as the whole overarching principle that is _allegedly_ the foundation of how our country is run, consent of the governed), it would also be a complete disaster for anyone involved in the IT industry. Like I had the college student explain, let's say Person A has a blog on Google's blog system, Blogger. On that blog, Person A has a link to a website that contains pirated material. Not only would Person A be a criminal, Google would be culpable for providing the web-hosting service. Major IT companies would either have to shut down completely or purchase so much liability insurance that they'd be effectively crippled. The way the bills were written made use of such broad language that even fairly innocuous videos on Youtube, like the little boy singing along to Beyonce's Single Ladies, or the video made by the bored soldiers in Iraq that had them dancing around to Ke$ha's song Tik Tok would be criminal violations of copyright.

To make things even worse, SOPA and PIPA would give the government the right to take down content hosted outside of the United States. Which I don't think takes a genius to understand that's... well, to put it bluntly, highly illegal. I know some Spanish citizens are already planning to sue the US government for data loss with MegaUpload being taken down.

To make a long story short, yeah, I mad, and I think the government and the entertainment companies should just go back to doing their damn jobs, rather than trying to control what the people choose to access. Don't we have bigger fish to fry, like, oh, I don't know, stopping terrorists or catching child predators or fixing the economy, or something?

-Kaboom


	35. Open Mouth, Insert Foot

**Warnings: Rush Limbaugh. Yes, he's obnoxious enough to get his own warning. **

Chapter Thirty-Five: Open Mouth, Insert Foot

Once again, Alfred's phone was ringing off the hook and he had no idea why. Usually, it meant that either someone in his government, or at least a prominent political commentator, had done something incredibly stupid. Other times, it meant that some controversial piece of legislation had passed or not passed, and some highly significant population group was enraged. This time, though, Alfred couldn't think of any particular controversial legislation that had passed recently, with the exception of the president now requiring all employers, even religious ones, to pay for comprehensive health insurance that included birth control. But that shit had already hit the fan, and Alfred had spent several weeks trying to calm down enraged Catholic bishops and social conservatives. As far as he knew, the whole debacle hadn't intensified recently, and he had thought he would be out of the woods, at least for a while.

Sighing, he picked up the phone when it started ringing again. "Alfred F. Jones speaking."

"YOU NEED TO CONTROL YOUR PUNDITS BETTER!" a shrill female voice screamed in his ear. Wincing, Alfred held the mobile about an arms length away from his head.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, I don't understand what you mean," he replied as calmly as possible, mentally running through the things that his pundits could have screwed up. Oh god, what had Glenn Beck done this time? The man had been quiet on the public front recently, although he'd continued his email correspondence with Alfred and his other pundit friends. It was only a matter of time before the man messed up again, though...

"DON'T GIVE ME THAT! I GUESS I SHOULDN'T HAVE EXPECTED ANY BETTER FROM YOU, BEING MALE AND ALL, BUT I WOULD HAVE THOUGHT THAT MY COUNTRY WOULD AT LEAST UNDERSTAND WHAT I WAS TALKING ABOUT!" the woman yowled into the phone. Alfred grimaced. An arm's length away from his head was still too close to his ear to be comfortable.

"Ma'am, you know I really can't agree or disagree with you unless I know what you're talking about," he answered. "And shouting at me won't make me realize what's upsetting you any faster. To be honest it just makes me more convinced that you're just yelling at me to piss me off. Now, you have thirty seconds to explain this to me, _without_ yelling, before I hang up on you." Alfred hated having to get serious like that, it made him feel like an asshole, but if the choice was either being a bit of an ass or losing his hearing, he was going to have to go with the "ass" designation.

"...you're serious. You really don't know what Rush Limbaugh did?" the woman replied.

"I haven't seen or spoken to Rush in about two months," Alfred said, "and the last time I did talk to him it was at the Bipartisan Politician and Pundit New Year's Ceasefire Party. He was wearing a lampshade on his head and trying to hit on Nancy Pelosi. He wasn't entirely sober at the time. The last time I spoke to him seriously was in November, and that was about how I wasn't going to be able to hit up Black Friday with him and Newt Gingrich. So no, I do not, in fact, know what he said that has upset you so much." Alfred's caller sighed.

"I really do hope that you are aware of the new regulation mandating that all employers provide coverage for birth control in their health insurance plans?"

"Yes, I am," Alfred replied shortly, not liking this caller's tone. No matter how polite he was to her, she still seemed to view him in an adversarial manner, and he resented that. It wasn't like he paid attention to every little thing anyone even remotely connected to him said. He wouldn't have time to do anything else if that was the case! And he hadn't been on the Internet today, he'd been too busy trying to do the laundry. He really would have to remember to not let it go for three months next time... that really was a lot of laundry.

"Well, don't you know that the Republicans have been trying to overturn that ruling?"

"Say what you're saying, ma'am," Alfred demanded, patience wearing thin. There was an irritated sniff on the other end of the line, and then-

"Well, there was a woman who went to testify in front of a Congressional committee on how important reproductive freedom is, and then Limbaugh went on his show and called her a slut and a prostitute and told her to videotape herself 'making use' of the birth control and put it on the Internet!"

At first, Alfred had to suppress a snort. Rush Limbaugh said that kind of shit about _everyone_. He wasn't exactly discriminating in who he insulted... he seemed to view anyone in the news, even people ostensibly on his side, as potential targets. What made this incident so special? It wasn't like Rush had never used that sort of language before.

And then, the more he thought about it, the more he realized where his caller was coming from. This whole debate was extremely contentious, and tempers were running high on both sides. It was no wonder that there were individuals taking extreme offense to Limbaugh's particular brand of invective, even though this definitely wasn't the first time he'd done something like this.

"Alright, ma'am, thank you for telling me," Alfred said. "I actually didn't know about this, I've been too busy to watch the news or access the Internet, but now that I know I'll definitely have a talk with him about what's appropriate to send out over the airwaves. In fact, I'd be surprised if the FCC wasn't jumping on him right now."

"See that you do." And wit h that, the line went dead.

Sighing, Alfred plugged his phone back into its charger, sitting down heavily on his sofa. Well, this certainly put him in a dilemma. On one hand, Limbaugh technically did have a right to say what he wanted to, as long as it wasn't slanderous, but there were some things that an individual would have to decide what the appropriate time to say them was. For example, one wouldn't drop the C-bomb in the middle of a fancy dinner party hosted by your boss, would they? And one probably wouldn't be speaking the Queen's English when they were disciplining their errant teenager. But the radio program... that was a gray area. Yes, there were some words that you couldn't say on the air- every broadcaster knew that. But then there were the "gray-area" words- words that weren't... _profane,_ exactly, but still not what you would want your five-year-old saying.

However, slander wasn't protected under the First Amendment. And while Alfred wasn't really sure if Limbaugh's ranting was technically slander, he was pretty sure that a law student would be able to make a fairly convincing case for it being so. While he knew that Limbaugh would probably react to him trying to discuss the incident with outrage, Alfred decided that he had to try.

Limbaugh picked up on the first ring. "WHAT? I already apologized, dammit!"

"Uh, hi, Rush," Alfred said. He wasn't really surprised by the other man's reaction, but he would have at least thought that he would have looked at the caller ID.

"Oh. Hi Alfred," the pundit replied. "Sorry, sorry, I thought you were... never mind. What's up? I don't suppose you're calling to invite me for drinks, huh?"

"No."

"Well, in that case, I'm not talking to you. I already apologized, what else do I need to do? They're all just a bunch of fucking haters! None of them know how to take a joke! Everything is so goddamned politically correct anymore I can't even make a stupid comment to make my listeners laugh! You know what? I give up. Fuck the haters and fuck the advertisers that pulled their ads from my show. They just don't know what's funny!"

"Rush, I know this is hard for you," Alfred replied, tiptoeing around his words. "I mean, I know you- everyone who knows you knows that you were trying to be funny, and that you do this kind of thing all the time. You don't... well, I guess you _do_ mean it to be offensive, but you don't really single anyone out."

"Damn right I don't!" Limbaugh yelled. "Why is this time so different?"

"Because you called a law student a prostitute," Alfred said calmly.

"Why- what?"

"Look, I get it," Alfred continued. "I actually do get it. You were trying to be funny, make some commentary on something current that your listeners think is funny, like you always do, but you sort of stepped on a land mine and came _really_ close to slander. You can't just go around calling people prostitutes. They don't react well to that."

"But what if they _are_ prostitutes?" Limbaugh asked. "Like, legit prostitutes, like the DC Madam or that girl Spitzer was screwing?"

"Well, in that case I guess you can call them prostitutes, as long as it's been proved that they are," Alfred replied. "If you want my advice, I'd just lay low for a while- don't do anything too outrageous, stay calm, stick to fundraising for the Republicans or whatever it is you're doing now... and stop insulting people, especially around this particular issue. Things are explosive right now and I _really_ don't want the director of Planned Parenthood ringing my doorbell at 2:00 AM again. I mean, I'm always willing to talk to her, but not when I'm trying to sleep!" The other man snorted into the phone.

"Yeah, that totally sounds like the kind of thing she would do."

"Well, don't blame it entirely on her," Alfred replied diplomatically. "I seem to remember the director of the Cato Institute doing the exact same thing a few months ago." Alfred paused for a moment. "You know as well as anyone that I'm committed as ever to protecting our free speech rights, but it's been the law since the beginning that you can't slander people. Just be careful, alright? I'm going to tell the same thing to everyone else, no matter what side of the political fence they're on."

"Fine," Limbaugh grumbled. "Although I don't know how I'm supposed to get my advertisers back if I can't be funny."

"You can be funny without being obnoxious," Alfred replied. "I know you can, I've seen you do it."

"Yeah, yeah. Look, I've got to go, I have a meeting with the network in twenty minutes," the pundit shot back. Alfred nodded, even though the other man couldn't see him.

"Just remember what I said, alright? Free speech is okay, slander is not."

To Be Continued

Author's Comments:

This was a hard chapter to write, because the issues involved really are so explosive. The way some people are acting, you'd think that if the insurance doesn't cover birth control the world would blow up, and at the same time others are acting like like if it DOES giant evil space chickens will show up and devour their brains. As for me, personally? My job doesn't even provide insurance (part-time, wooo!) so it doesn't really affect me. But I will say that the invective has gotten ridiculous, on both sides. Alright, people, there's no need to call everyone who uses birth control a whore, and there's no need to call everyone who's uncomfortable with this ruling an evil asshole who wants to oppress women. There are a lot of reasons to take birth control other than, y'know... birth control (controlling endometriosis, for one, or leveling out hormones that went whack), and there are arguments for why this ruling infringes on freedom (it's expensive and could raise insurance premiums, does the government really have the right to force religious organizations to do x, y, or z?). At this point in time, I am leaning towards the idea that the insurance _should_ cover it, because the medication in question has legitimate uses other than preventing pregnancy, and since full-time employers are already required to provide health insurance, they might as well provide this too.

That said, I kind of found the backlash to Limbaugh calling that law student a slut to be a bit disproportionate. People. It's Rush Limbaugh. He's kind of a douchebag. He's _always_ been kind of a douchebag. And it's not like this is the first time he's dissed someone using fairly crude terminology. Everyone going ZOMFG RUSH LIMBAUGH IS AN ASSHOLE just kind of makes me go "and you just noticed this NOW?"

Argh, this got a lot longer than I intended and doesn't really make sense. Oh well.

-Kaboom


	36. Never Give Up, part 1

**Warnings: Nothing for this chapter, unless you really dislike Newt Gingrich. This is part one of a new story arc, one that's a bit more serious than the rest of the fic, but I hope it will still be enjoyable. **

Chapter Thirty-Six: Never Give Up, part 1

April 2012

By the spring of 2012, it was clear to anyone who was paying attention to the Republican primary races that the vast majority of the competitors still in the race were fighting a futile battle. Ron Paul was generally considered too crazy to be electable by the general populace, even though he had a lot of support among younger people (and great star power on college campuses). Rick Santorum more or less had the evangelical Christian vote in the bag, but as for the rest of the country, they still had a lot of doubts about his competency (and his tendency to shoot his mouth off and say things generally not considered appropriate by decent people). Plus, no matter how hard he tried, he still couldn't completely get rid of his Google problem, much to his chagrin. Newt Gingrich kept saying he was not going to leave the race until the bitter end, but it was becoming mathematically impossible for him to become the Republican presidential nominee. It seemed, to just about everyone, from the random guy sitting in his basement watching the television news, to the highly respected newspaper journalist, that Mitt Romney would inevitably be the Presidential nominee.

Even Alfred himself was kind of baffled by the determination of the other candidates. He didn't expect much else from Ron Paul, who would likely either end up running as a third-party candidate if he didn't get the Republican nomination, or his supporters would simply write his name in on the ballot. Santorum was staying in the race as a result of his fairly decent results in the primaries (at least before he mouthed off, at least). But Newt Gingrich? It was pretty clear that the former Speaker of the House wasn't going to get the nomination, even if he stayed in the race to the bitter end. His numbers were so much further behind than the rest of the candidates, and it seemed that it was going to stay that way. Alfred thought he must be doing it because he was stubborn and wanted to prove a point. Although what point it was... that would remain a mystery, or so Alfred thought. At least until one unseasonably warm night in early spring.

Alfred was sitting in his living room, watching a scary movie and enjoying a cup of coffee, when the doorbell rang. He nearly jumped out of his skin- scary movies and doorbells were generally not a good combination- but he put the DVD on pause and warily answered the door, expecting it to be a solicitor or something. Maybe the Girl Scouts were still selling cookies!

Instead, there was a very familiar and rather disheveled-looking politician on his doorstep. "Newt!" Alfred exclaimed in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Can I come in?" the former Speaker of the House asked tiredly. "I know it's late, and you weren't expecting me, but I want to talk to you."

"Uh... sure," Alfred replied, growing more nervous by the second. It wasn't often that his politicians paid him personal visits, and it was even rarer for them to do so unannounced. "Are you alright?"

Gingrich didn't answer, flopping down onto Alfred's sofa and staring at the paused television screen for a while. Finally, he spoke again. "What are you watching?"

"_Basement Massacre 3_," Alfred replied. Newt snorted.

"I thought you hated scary movies."

"I don't _hate_ them," Alfred answered defensively. "They're just... kinda scary." Gingrich laughed.

"Yeah, like that time in 1995 you nearly hid up Hillary Clinton's skirts because the movie you guys were watching scared you so bad. I'll say that was scary!" he teased. Alfred rolled his eyes. Of course no one was ever going to let him forget any of the dumb things he'd done throughout his life, be it other countries or his current politicians. Normally he would have retorted back with something embarrassing about the other man, but he could tell that something was wrong. After all, Gingrich wasn't really the type to just show up randomly and ask to talk. Pelosi, maybe. But Gingrich? This just wasn't like the other man, and Alfred feared that something serious had happened.

The two sat in silence for a while longer, both wrapped up in their own thoughts. Alfred really _was_ beginning to worry that something terrible had happened. Gingrich had always been considered to be one of the more thoughtful Republicans, somewhat more intelligent than many of his peers on either side of the aisle, but this silent contemplation wasn't like him.

The tension was killing Alfred. After a few more moments, when it became apparent that Newt wasn't about to offer any more information of his own free will, Alfred decided to take a different tactic, and try to fish for answers. "Is Callista alright?" he asked, referencing the other man's wife. Newt started, then nodded his head.

"Oh, she's fine, she's fine," he said vaguely. "Nothing's wrong with her, if that's what you're asking... campaign stress is getting to her, just like it's getting to everyone else, but at least she hasn't gone mad over the MegaMillions tickets like Romney's wife..." his voice trailed off, clearly drifting back off into thought.

Now Alfred was _really_ worried. If there was nothing wrong with his wife, and he wasn't sure how to explain what was on his mind, what could possibly have gone wrong? A million and one horrible scenarios burned his brain, imagining what could have upset the other man so much. But before Alfred's imagination could run away with him, Gingrich spoke again.

"Do you ever worry about what's going to happen to this country?"

"Excuse me?" Alfred asked, confused. Newt laughed bitterly to himself.

"No, of course you do, you _are_ this country," he mused aloud. "What I mean is, do you ever worry about what's going to happen to the government? Sometimes it seems to me like everyone's compromising their own standards to make things easier for themselves, and that no one keeps their promises anymore."

"Mmm," Alfred hummed non-noncommittally. While he certainly had nothing personal against the other man, Gingrich talking about moral compromises was a bit... of a stretch, considering that he had divorced two different wives and wasn't exactly known as the most generous individual alive. And he _was_ a politician... it always amused Alfred a bit to hear them talking about keeping promises, considering the vast majority of them had a talent for spouting empty rhetoric that they would never manage to live up to. Not really sure where Gingrich was going with this, he sat expectantly, waiting for the other man to continue.

"I mean, I know it must sound crazy, me of all people talking about this," he said with a bitter little laugh. "But if there's one thing this election cycle has taught me, it's that it's not about what's best for the country anymore, it's all about the easiest way to get elected. Talk out one side of your mouth to say what the public wants to hear, then talk out the other side to tell the other politicians what _they_ want to hear, then say something completely different to the donors, the corporations... I don't even really know what to stand for anymore. But I do know one thing," Gingrich suddenly said forcefully. "I do know that I will always have a drive to return this nation to its roots! And I don't think Mitt Romney has that same drive! I think he'll pretend to be conservative enough to win the election, then once he's safely in the White House he'll just waffle back to neutrality, or worse, he'll go on with more liberalism! You know, he's the one that came up with the prototype for Obamacare," the former Speaker dropped his voice conspiratorially, as though he was sharing a great secret with Alfred. "I think he's just pretending to be moving to the right so he can get elected. But I won't let him sabotage everything we've worked for! I know I'll never be the President, at least not this election cycle, but by god, I'll do everything in my power to make sure that our next President will keep America on the right track!"

For a moment, Alfred sat stunned. Wow. This paranoid ranting was so unlike anything he'd ever heard from the other man before that the crazy idea that this wasn't actually Newt Gingrich, but instead a very convincing impersonator, flitted through his mind. But then, reality set back in, and Alfred saw who was really in front of him for the first time that night: not Newt Gingrich, former Speaker of the House and Professor of History at the University of West Georgia, but instead, Newt Gingrich, exhausted Presidential candidate finally realizing the futility of it all. Alfred remembered the first time he realized that even though he was America, he was basically powerless against the will of all of his people. It was a daunting thing, he remembered, realizing that even though he technically did have some power, that power was impotent in the grand scheme of things. He had realized that very early in his nationhood, less than a year after the conclusion of the Revolutionary War. But many humans, especially politicians, didn't ever really come to that same realization.

Alfred could only imagine the internal turmoil the other man was going through, and he didn't have the foggiest idea of what he could say that could help him out. "Oh yeah, don't worry about it, the people are absolutely bonkers but at least they haven't blown up the world yet?" Somehow he didn't think that would help too much.

Instead, he got up and fixed two mugs of coffee, one for himself, the other for Gingrich. The politician looked up and gave a wan smile as he accepted it. "Thanks, Alfred."

"No problem," Alfred answered. "I don't remember, do you take your coffee black, or do you like cream and sugar? I don't really have any coffee creamer at the moment..."

"It's fine, Alfred," Newt replied. "Sorry to just show up like this, you must think I'm a huge pain in the ass..."

"Not at all," Alfred replied truthfully. "You've just realized something that a lot of politicians never figure out. All in all, we don't really have all that much of an impact. You humans are so fragile," Alfred mused, realizing he likely wasn't making the situation any better, but feeling that it needed to be said anyway. "You only live for a few decades, and you try so hard to make your mark on the future. I've existed in this present form for over two centuries, and I'm still coming to terms with it. Some of the older nations still have trouble with it. We see so much happen, so much go wrong, so much needless destruction... yet we really can't do very much about it. We're all so helpless, tied to the whims of the people. But at least we can conference with one another, and we do have some say in what happens to us. Our politicians, though? They can only do so much, and if the public is against them, there's nothing they can really do to save themselves, not even if the country himself steps in." Gingrich looked at his nation, expression unreadable.

"So you're basically telling me it's futile, that I should drop out of the race because nothing I do will make a difference?"

"NO!" Alfred exclaimed. "That's not what I'm saying at all! What I'm trying to say is, that you can't do it alone. Neither can Ron Paul, Rick Santorum, Mitt Romney, Barack Obama- no one politician can completely control the will of the people. They've tried it in the past and we all know how that ended up. Humans, and countries too, they're so unpredictable. What seems like a good idea at one point turns out to be a terrible idea in the end, and what seems like a horrible idea ends up being the only solution to the problem." Alfred laughed sadly. "And they say I'm too naïve. Maybe I am. Maybe I should just give up. But I won't," he said fiercely. "I don't care what it takes, I want to look out for the welfare of my citizens, and I think most of you guys do too. But you won't be able to do it by yourselves. You guys have got to start to look past all this partisanship. You get nothing done, just piss off the citizens, and give me a headache!" Gingrich looked abashed at that.

"Sorry."

"It's not your fault, it's everyone's!" Alfred groused, although he smiled as he said it. "Just... it's up to you whether or not you want to stay in the race until the end, but just think about what I said."

"I will," Gingrich replied, finishing his coffee and placing the mug on the table. "And I should probably be getting back to my campaign bus, everyone will be wondering where I went. Sorry for imposing on you like this."

"Don't worry about it," Alfred said breezily, waving his hand in the air as though he was dismissing the other man's words. "Just next time, maybe call first? It would have been awkward if I'd been asleep or in the shower or something. Probably I would have been in the shower- you politicians really have a bad habit of barging in on me showering. George W. Bush did it several times, and I think I may have accidentally traumatized Nancy Pelosi once." Newt laughed.

"If you were just in the shower, it would have been her fault. Hasn't she ever heard of knocking?" Alfred blushed.

"I may or may not have been re-enacting the pit of doom scene from _300 _with a bunch of rubber duckies at the time." The former Speaker of the House laughed uproariously at that.

"You are something else, Alfred," he said before exiting the apartment, leaving the nation with his thoughts.

TBC

Author's Comments:

So yes, I know this chapter isn't as funny as the others, and the next one or two chapters will be along the same lines as this one. There's a couple reasons for this- one, I haven't been in the mood to write humor fics recently, as I've been feeling extremely poorly (health issues, academic problems and job worries tend to do that), and everything I tried to write that was closer to the tone of the rest of the fic just felt forced to me. Secondly, I've made the final decision that this fic will end in November of this year, after the Presidential election. Theoretically, this fic could go on forever, as long as the United States exists, but it was originally written to poke fun at the 2008 election and its aftermath, so completing it after the 2012 elections seems like a good idea to me. After all, no one wants to read a never-ending story. So this particular story arc will tie up a few loose ends with some of the characters, even though I will not be completing this fic for a while.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter even though it's not as funny as usual, and ask you to bear with me for the next chapter or two- then we'll get back to the crazy politician antics and Alfred trying to deal with them without losing his mind.

**EDIT 4.9.2012**- Alright, let's try this again! Come on FFnet, you were doing so well, not glitching for so long, now you're going to just randomly delete URLs? Get it together!

-Kaboom


	37. Put Your Damn Pants Back On!

**Warnings: This chapter is about sex scandals, including the recent Secret Service prostitution scandal, so it stands to reason that this chapter would be a bit above average for the story. I do not think it warrants bumping the rating up, however. **

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Put Your Damn Pants Back On!

Over the past two hundred or so years, Alfred had come to the unavoidable conclusion that sex scandals were going to happen no matter what. No amount of him imploring politicians to keep their pants zipped up, or at the very least make sure they committed their indiscretions off the clock, was going to make any impact on their behavior. No matter who it was, whether it was presidents, or Congresspeople, or even the interns, someone was going to do something stupid, and it was going to make Alfred look bad and divide the country even further. Back in the 2oth century, Alfred had to ban J. Edgar Hoover from bringing him tapes of different politicians involved in... well, performing the horizontal tango. "Please, please, for the love of everything liberty-related, stop bringing me tapes and documents of people with their mistresses!" he'd finally exploded at the first FBI director one day, when he'd brought his country more of the incriminating tapes. "I don't care!"

"But Alfred," Hoover had replied, "this is JFK we're talking about here! He's cheating on Mrs. Kennedy!"

"Well, that's Mrs. Kennedy's problem now," Alfred retorted. "I have work to do, and so do you! Stop being a Peeping Tom and actually do some work for once! You're in charge of the FBI, for god's sake! Act like it! Do something related to national security!"

"Fine," the FBI director had pouted, shuffling off. Alfred rolled his eyes- he knew Hoover (probably) meant well, but at the same time, he really did need to get back to work. The FBI wasn't going to direct itself. And Alfred _really_ did not want to know what the president did in his private moments. He'd been traumatized enough when he accidentally stumbled across a Presidential porn stash in the early 1900s. He really did _not_ want to picture his boss- ANY of his bosses- in their most personal moments. Although Hoover had been correct about one thing- it wasn't a very good thing for the President of the United States to have an extramarital affair.

Then came the whole debacle with Bill Clinton and Monica Lewinsky. That had come after the advent of mass media, including televisions and the Internet. Before long, everyone he knew was either making jokes at his expense, about blowjobs and Oval Offices and the duties of interns, or thinking he was a philandering asshole. Thankfully that had died down, although Ivan did sometimes think it was funny to ask him if he'd gotten any in the Oval Office recently.

Since then, it seemed like there was a new incident every year. Senators in airplane bathrooms, Congressmen Tweeting their dongs... it had become par for the course. It was embarrassing, sure, but Alfred had learned to live with it. He was also used to his people doing some pretty boneheaded things- it seemed to come with the territory with being human, and Alfred would be lying if he said he hadn't done his own share of boneheaded things. But this… this really took the cake, in terms of boneheaded-ness. In what universe was it a good idea to bring a bunch of unknown quantities into a supposedly secured area? And that went double for Secret Service agents bringing a score of prostitutes into their hotel rooms. Hotel rooms where they would be completely unguarded. Hotel rooms where they had hard copies of the President's schedule for the trip. Hotel rooms where they kept their weapons. Alfred resisted the urge to bang his head on the desk. Maybe a concussion would take away this painful headache his absolutely _brilliant_ citizens had caused for him.

Not only had they put national security in jeopardy, they had also created something of an international incident. Alfred wasn't exactly on the best of terms with Colombia anyway- there were many things they didn't see eye-to-eye on. But there was one thing that both Alfred and Juan agreed with, and that was that they were concerned with the well-being of their citizens. Unfortunately, this time, it landed them on opposing sides. Juan was not pleased that a group of his citizens had been taken advantage of, and to add insult to injury, had been cheated out of their rightful wages by a couple of American agents. Alfred was attempting to do damage control with the other country, but it wasn't going… really, much of anywhere. No matter how many times Alfred apologized on behalf of his citizens, no matter how many times he offered to pay the money the prostitute had been denied himself, nothing was enough to calm Colombia's irate ranting. "Are your own morals so lax that your people think they can get away with whatever when they leave their country?" Juan had shouted. "Do they think that the rules just don't apply when they're no longer on American soil? It's important to be upstanding members of the community at home, but as soon as the landing gear goes down, the wedding rings come off? Do your people not value marriage vows at all?"

Alfred wanted to retort that of course his people didn't think that, of course they knew better, this was just a small sample of his population, but he knew that this looked _really_ bad. The men involved in this incident were agents of the Secret Service, the institution that was supposed to protect the President. If they were just running around like a bunch of frat boys on Spring Break, of course it wouldn't look good to the rest of the world. And it also made him wonder what other shenanigans members of his government got up to that he never even found out about.

Finally deciding that he was going to take a stand, once and for all, Alfred called a meeting with the disgraced agents, some of whom had already resigned or been given the pink slip. As the group of men stood in front of his desk, looking at the floor, Alfred felt something he rarely ever felt towards his citizens creep up his spine: rage. "I hope you know what you did was incredibly stupid," he said, a lot more calmly than he felt.

"Uh, sir, we can-" one started to try to explain away what had happened, but Alfred was having none of it.

"You can what?" he spat. "You can explain? How can you possibly explain this? You put yourselves, your colleagues, and the President in danger with this stunt! And I _know_ you have a wife and kids- can you imagine how hard it will be to explain to them why you no longer have a job?" The agent flinched, having been one of the ones to so far escape being fired. "Oh yeah, dad lost his job because he couldn't keep his pants zipped up on a business trip! Oh, and he also endangered national security while doing so, no biggie. Just hope that woman didn't get pregnant, or you'll be explaining to your kids how they have a new half-sibling in nine months!" Alfred was really on a roll- he hadn't let loose like this in a long time, and this sorry excuse for law enforcement and physical protection deserved it. "You all are _damn_ lucky nothing else happened."

None of the assembled agents had anything to say in response. In their minds, they knew the truth, that Alfred was right. What started out as a supposedly fun way to get some stress relief could have gone catastrophically wrong. Which it did, but it could have gone even _more_ catastrophically wrong. All in all, they were getting off easy.

"Abraham Lincoln would be so disappointed if he could see how far the agency he created has fallen," Alfred said sadly. "And I thought Operation Sundevil was bad, when you lot disrupted the telecom network in the name of catching hackers! But this really is the epitome of stupid." Again, the agents shuffled uncomfortably, knowing their country was right. "Just… just get out of my sight, I don't want to see any of you idiots for the next forty years," Alfred sighed.

Just before they all left, though, Alfred called out- "wait a minute." The agents froze. "You're all fired," Alfred said simply, not caring that technically, he wasn't their boss. He was the United Freaking States of America- who was going to say he couldn't?

TBC

Author's Comments:

Fun fact: the Secret Service actually was created by Abraham Lincoln a few days after Robert E. Lee surrendered at Appomattox Courthouse, ending the Civil War. Operation Sundevil was a sting conducted by the Secret Service in the mid-1990s that was intended to catch hackers that were disrupting the nation's telecommunications, but they didn't actually catch any hackers and just made the problem worse, causing major damages in the process.

I don't have a whole lot to say about this chapter other than just when I wasn't sure what I was going to do with the rest of this story, the whole Secret Service sex scandal went down. Bam. New chapter.

That said, this will probably be the last chapter for the better part of the next month, since I have exams coming up, as well as extra work to do. I got promoted, which is good, but it also means I have to work more. So… yeah. I will try to update as soon as possible, but at the very earliest it won't be before my exams are completed.

EDIT: Somehow I accidentally merged this document with my database administration homework. I think I got everything that's not supposed to be in the chapter out of it, but if you see random MySQL commands, that's what that is, and I'd appreciate if you would let me know so I can get rid of them once and for all.

-Kaboom


	38. Never Give Up, part 2

**Warnings: None that I can think of, although it's a little more serious than usual- it's the second part of the arc started in Chapter Thirty-Six, which I sort of skipped over for the last chapter. Also, please see the end-notes for a few important announcements. **

Chapter Thirty-Eight: Never Give Up, Part Two

"Alfred! Alfred! The Supreme Court upheld the health care reform bill!" The country in question was practically tackled by an extremely excited former Speaker of the House. "Can you believe Roberts actually joined the liberal wing of the court? I never thought the day would come when that old man joined the same side as us! This is such a great day, I can't wait to go tell Hillary!" Nancy Pelosi bounced up and down excitedly. Alfred had to smile a bit at that- she always had been rather demonstrative when she was emotional, and at least she wasn't squishing him this time.

"I'm happy for you," Alfred said, returning the hug. "This is a really big victory for the president's administration."

"What's the matter?" the woman asked, eyeing Alfred suspiciously. "You're not as excited as I thought you would be. This is a great day for America! We're finally going to be protecting our citizens, the way we were meant to! I thought you would be thrilled about this!"

"It's not that I'm not happy about it," Alfred replied. "But you do know that this is only going to cause even more divisions. Do you really think that the Republicans are going to give up on trying to repeal this law, even if the Supreme Court said it was constitutional? The court was split- if Roberts had voted the other way the law would have been struck down. It's still contentious, and now it's one more headache I have to worry about come November. You guys should be thinking about that too. There's a lot of people out there who are still upset by this," he warned. "You need to be careful. The President needs to strategize, and to prepare for even more challenges. I've heard rumors of even bringing impeachment proceedings." Pelosi rolled her eyes.

"Oh, it's not like they can actually do anything. They're just a bunch of hot air! Can't you loosen up and enjoy a victory for once?"

"But that's just it- it's not exactly a victory, not for all Americans. I can't really celebrate when I feel like my head is going to split open from all of the partisan fighting," Alfred replied, somewhat more harshly than he'd intended. "It's fucking Independence Day in a few days, and I can't even get excited for it because I feel like I have the flu! Feel free to celebrate your victory, Ms. Pelosi, but please leave me out of it. I am going to take an Execdrin and lie down." With that, Alfred stomped off, leaving a shell-shocked Democratic congresswoman in his wake.

It wasn't as though he'd actually intended to be so harsh on Pelosi, but he had been telling the truth. For as much as there were Democratic politicians celebrating their win on the health-care reform legislation, there were just as many pissed-off Republicans cursing the name of every single Democrat they could think of. And it was giving Alfred indigestion. This was a _perfect_ way to spend his special day- Independence Day, for crying out loud- dealing with the aftermath of divisive politics. Besides, he was still thinking of the conversation he'd had with Newt Gingrich a few months prior. Idealism was only getting him so far. No matter what _anyone_ suggested, it was going to be met with vitriol and invective. The Democrats could propose a bill saying that fluffy kittens were nice and the Republicans would filibuster it. And the Republicans could try to pass a a bill stating that puppies were cute and the Democrats would shoot it down. To be honest, it was exhausting, and with the Fourth of July coming up, Alfred couldn't find it in himself to care.

2012 was going to be his 236th birthday, and if he hadn't managed to figure it out by now, would he ever? He knew that compared to his fellow nations he was still very young. China had been around for so much longer and he seemed to be doing okay, although he still had that problem with communism. England had been around for a thousand years or more and he was still going strong, although from what Alfred had seen, the other nation had his own fair share of issues with partisanship. If countries that had been around for thousands of years couldn't get it right, what hope did he have?

This year as also an election year, and Alfred had the nasty feeling that this health-care reform thing was only going to make the fight even more bitter than usual. The decision had all but been made that Mitt Romney was going to be the Republican Presidential candidate. Which complicated things a lot on the health-care front. The man had been the architect behind Massachusetts' own personal health-care reform, but now he was denouncing everything he'd done to that end? If there was one thing Alfred knew his people despised it was a flip-flopper. There was no way this was going to end well, and Alfred feared that the end-game would be more trouble than it was worth. Was it really worth neighbor turning against neighbor for this one law? He'd already seen what could happen when things got out of hand over policy. He'd already had one civil war, and while the other nations assured him that it was normal, common even, for a country to expereince more than one, Alfred did _not_ relish the idea of having to go toe-to-toe against his psychotic split personality. Again. Arnold F. Jones, better known as the Confederate States of America, was a well-kept secret. None of the humans alive today remembered him at all, and in the official records, Alfred's "evil twin" had been all but erased from existence. Most of the time, Alfred himself forgot he had ever existed, eiher.

But in more recent times, Alfred could feel that secondary personality lurking around on the edge of his consciousness. It was fleeting and barely noticeable, like the soft alightment of a butterfly on a flower, but Alfred could tell it was there. It hadn't grown strong enough to form its own thoughts yet, but Alfred worried that if things continued the way they had, it was only a matter of time before he started hearing that wicked little voice in the back of his mind, telling him things he would prefer not to hear. If _that_ continued, it was inevitable that his secondary personality would split away from him, and then he'd have another Civil War on his hands.

The thought daunted him. This election couldn't end soon enough.

To Be Continued

Author's Comments:

I am so, so sorry that I haven't been updating this fic regularly. I wish I had a better explanation as for why, but to be honest, I just don't have the energy or the interest to do so any more. I'm still going to finish this fic, and I'm going to do everything in my power to update at least twice a month until November, but that really depends on what happens in the political sphere, if anything comes up that's worth writing about.

On a slightly happier note, Happy Fourth of July to everyone, and if you're not American, Happy Wednesday! I, unfortunately, will not be having a Fourth of July, thanks to my miserable job and lazy fucking coworkers. Can you tell I'm a bit cranky about missing my favorite holiday? Whee. Excuse me while I go find a container for my joy.

Sorry for the depressing update.

-Kaboom


	39. Four More Years

**Warnings: Nothing much. A creepy dream. **

Chapter Thirty-Nine: Four More Years

It was over.

It was finally over.

The Presidential election was over, the votes had been counted, and the results were in, except for Florida. Alfred didn't know why, but somehow that state managed to keep buggering up counting the votes. At least this time it didn't directly impact the outcome of the election.

Obama had won re-election, much to the joy of about half the country, and much to the despair of the other half. Already Alfred could feel it inside of his head- he would alternate from a light feeling of elation to crushing rage the next, get stabbing, splitting headaches that only lasted a minute or two, then give way to a feeling of relieved calm. This was actually pretty normal for the days after a Presidential election. In the past fifty years or so, he couldn't remember a time where he wasn't more or less incapacitated due to rapid mood swings and changes in his health for about a week or so after an election. Most of the people in his government knew this and were pretty good about leaving him alone until he was feeling better. There was no need to antagonize him while he was trying to recover.

But this time, it was Alfred who contacted the President, rather than the other way around.

_You miss me, Alfie?_ Alfred gasped, jumping backwards as he realized who was addressing him. He thought he'd been rid of that menace in the 1800s. But no, he was back. And pissed, if the enraged expression on his doppelganger's face was anything to go by. Albert G. Jones. His psychotic split personality, given form through the rage and hatred of enough of his citizens. Once, he was known as the Confederate States of America. Now, he had no true name. At least not yet. But if he was back, with an actual physical form, it was only a matter of time before it happened again.

_How the fuck did you get in here!?_ Alfred demanded to know. _You're supposed to be dead! I__ saw you die!_

_Silly little Alfie, _the doppelganger laughed. _You know we don't really die. Look at your friend Prussia over there. He's still around, isn't he, even though he stopped existing as a country a long time ago? Once we're born, we never really __die- we might fade into obscurity for a while, but we're never really gone. Don't you want to know what happens when a nation falls? We don't cease to exist, that's for damn sure._

Alfred couldn't help himself. He was horrified, and scared, but he knew that if he could keep his evil twin talking, he might be able to buy some time to think of something- anything- he could do. How did he kill him (or not kill him, if that was the case) in the first place? Everything happened so fast that day at Appomattox. He remembered shooting, and then... an explosion of red and blue light? Or was that a dream? Or even something from a stupid movie he'd seen at some point? How had he gotten rid of Albert G. Jones a hundred and fifty years ago? _Well, sure, everyone wants to __know where we go when we stop existing._

Albert laughed psychotically. _You wouldn't last a day there, older brother! You'd be horrified at how we all got there. But I'm back now, and I'm stronger than I was the last time. You won't stop me again, Alfie, no__t this time. Your people have become divided enough to give me life again. This time, I've learned from the best of my kind- those defeated, but not entirely destroyed. You'd like Lady Semiramis, I think. She reminds me a bit of us- hyperactive, but ruthle__ss when she needs to be._

_There is no us! _Alfred screamed. _Get the fuck away from me! I killed you once, I can kill you again! _

_You keep telling yourself what you need to believe, elder brother,_ Albert laughed. _You know it's true. You've known I was going__ to return since the day you convinced yourself you'd killed me. Silly little Alfie, you know you'll never be rid of me. Go ask your friend Russia. He'll be able to tell you- us splinter states? We never really die. We'll just subside for a little while. A__ hundred and fifty years isn't all that long, in the scheme of things. Just you wait, Alfie, we'll be able to make up for lost time so soon! I'm looking forward to seeing you again… heh hehe… hehehehehehe… _

* * *

Alfred woke up, sweating bullets and heart-rate elevated. His doppelganger's laughter echoed in his ears, and he looked around the room manically, as if Albert was going to jump out of nowhere and attack him. But there was nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that would suggest that his psychotic split personality was back from… well, wherever it is that psychotic split personalities of countries go when they're defeated. The humans had a concept called "hell," and it had given Alfred some comfort to think that bastard was locked away in an eternal realm of fire.

But there was no sign of the former Confederate States of America. If the last time he'd actually gained enough strength to separate from Alfred himself was any indication, Albert would have tried to make his entrance as flashy as possible. He and Alfred were alike in that respect- both had a great love of the dramatic. The first time he'd split off from him, Albert had shot Alfred at point-blank range. Seeing as Alfred was blessedly free of bullet holes, he breathed a sigh of relief. It had just been a dream. If it hadn't been a dream, he was certain that Albert would have made himself known by now. It wasn't in the splinter country's nature to bide his time, waiting for the chance to strike.

It was nothing but a dream.

But it had started with dreams the last time, too.

If he was dreaming of his splinter nation, did that mean that he was gaining strength again? The last time, it had started with dreams too. Was he really coming back? Or was the stress of the election finally getting to Alfred's head?

But… he'd been through stressful elections before, and he'd never dreamed of _him. _

Deciding he would call the President, if for no other reason than to put his mind at ease, Alfred picked up his cell phone and dialed a very familiar number. Yeah, it might have been 2:00 AM, but hopefully Obama would understand.

"You'd better have a good reason for waking me up, Alfred," a very grumpy president said by way of a greeting once he picked up the phone. "I haven't slept well in six months! What are you doing calling me at two in the morning? Couldn't it wait?"

"I'm… I'm sorry, sir," Alfred said, startled by how shaken his own voice sounded. "I just… needed to ask you a question."

It seemed that Obama picked up on Alfred's tone as well. "Is everything alright?"

"Not exactly. Uh, sir, this might sound like a strange question but has there been any talk of… well, secession? In some of the states? From the country as a whole?"

And he was back to being annoyed now. "You woke me up to ask me that!?"

"Please, sir," Alfred begged. "I… I'm not sure how to explain this- there's no one left alive that remembers it other than me and some of the other countries, but when the Civil War happened, my… I guess you could say evil twin, or my split personality, I guess, broke away from me and became its own entity. It cannot live on its own unless there's enough of the citizens to fuel it. I don't really understand how it works- none of us do. But the last time, it started with dreams. Tonight, for the first time in a hundred and fifty years, I dreamed of him."

There was silence on the other end of the line for several minutes. Then, the president spoke again.

"I wasn't planning to tell you yet, but you're right- there has been a flood of petitions to the White House website from various states requesting the right to secede."

Alfred went cold.

No… not again. It was happening again!? And the President of his own damn country didn't think it was important to tell him? Sure, maybe Obama hadn't known about… about Albert. But still! States trying to secede was, to appropriate a phrase from Joe Biden, a big fucking deal.

"And you didn't think this was something I needed to know?"

"Alfred, there's really nothing to worry about!" the president exclaimed. "Most of these petitions only have fifty or so signatures, so it's nowhere near enough to actually make a difference! And do you honestly think we're just going to let states secede? It didn't work the last time, it's not going to work this time either."

"The last time it ended in a civil war, with my evil twin trying to kill me," Alfred said darkly.

"Look, Alfred, I don't know what to tell you. It's not a big deal. Nothing is going to happen. There is not going to be another civil war. Just try to get some sleep- you just had a bad dream. I don't really know how your type works, but I don't think a dream is going to have an impact on anything. I'll tell you what- you start having even more thoughts about this sort of thing and you tell me. Then we'll start looking into it more seriously. But honestly, Alfred? I don't think you have anything to worry about. You'll be fine. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to meet with David Cameron tomorrow morning and I should probably get some sleep." With that, the line went dead and Alfred was left staring at his cell phone.

Maybe Obama was right. There wasn't anything to worry about. Maybe that actually _hadn't_ been one of those dreams where his psychotic other self was warning him that he'd be on his way out. It could have just been a stupid dream. He'd had those before- once, during the period of McCarthyism, and another, during the first Bush administration- he'd dreamed of Albert, and in those cases it hadn't been anything serious. Possibly it was just his subconscious reminding him of the ever-present possibility.

Turning back over on his side, Alfred closed his eyes and fell into an uneasy sleep.

To Be Completed

Author's Comments:

The next chapter will be the last one.

I apologize, again, for not getting this out sooner, but like I said before, my interest in writing this story had seriously died off. The latter half of this year… well, I've been dealing with some personal issues, I took a second job, and I really haven't been in the wacky sort of mood this story requires. As the election has ended, there isn't much of a point to me continuing to write this story, so the next chapter will be just to tie up some loose ends.

I'd like to thank everyone who's stuck with this travesty of a political satire to the bitter end, and waited for me to get my shit together and post the damn thing. It's been interesting, and I've really enjoyed hearing your feedback on this. I've gotten a lot of readers from around the world, and it's been very interesting to hear your opinions on my country's ridiculous political situation.

I actually do promise you this time- assuming the Apocalypse doesn't happen, the final chapter will be up before 2013.

-Kaboom


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